


A Dream for a Dragon

by ellasilverdewdrop



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe, Angst, Dimension Travel, Eventual Sex, F/M, Fluff, High Fantasy, Romance, Slow Build, Time Travel, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-29
Updated: 2014-10-28
Packaged: 2018-02-23 02:00:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2529866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellasilverdewdrop/pseuds/ellasilverdewdrop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ivy League bound Diora Starr's life was in perfect order until the eve of her 18th birthday, when a fortune teller predicted blood and darkness in her future. When Uldred uses an Eluvian to summon the modern-day girl into Thedas and use her as a living sacrifice, she embarks on an epic quest to find a way back home. What destiny awaits her? And what of the growing love she has for the Grey Warden Alistair Theirin? Expect some AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Boy and the Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the eve of her 18th birthday, Diora Starr receives a strange premonition.

"Clear your mind, child, and listen to what the stars have to tell you…"

Had she been hypnotized? Dreaming? Or was it been a vision brought on by the scents on mothballs, herbs, and burning incense? Diora herself had no clue. She only knew that as soon as she gazed into that crystal ball, the veil of space and time was drawn aside, and she stepped into a place beyond the realms of reverie…

A small cloud filled the crystal ball, shaping itself into an entirely different scene. Her bluish-grey eyes, so clearly reflected in the gazing ball mere seconds ago, were gone. Diora saw an entirely different scene playing out before her, a quiet hayloft with dust floating from the wooden beams in the rafters.

Gone was the crystal ball. Gone was the ratty fortune teller's shop. She was no longer sitting in the chair she had been sitting on. She was in the barn loft now.

A young lad, no more than ten years of age, slowly stirred from his slumber on a soft bed of hay. He brushed aside the thick wool blanket and yawned rather languorously, only to huddle back in the blanket's warmth as the cold nipped at him. His still sleepy eyes stared lazily through a streaky glass paned window and into the grey morning light.

An ordinary observer would have seen a young urchin boy, more often covered in mud than not. He was garbed in a thin, tattered, yellowed white shirt and a worn out pair of tan, patched-up breeches. He had a small, dust-streaked face and a head of untidy blond hair. His lips were wide, and so were his eyes, which looked like ambered honey in some lights and moods and deep hazel brown in others.

But Diora saw something else. Beneath the smudges of dirt, the forehead was broad and full. As they awakened, the eyes were intelligent but full of mixed longing and sadness, as though the boy was earnestly and hopelessly searching for something.

He looked so sad…. Why?

She looked out the window, hoping to discover what it was the young boy was searching for. From the high vantage point in the hayloft, she could make out the entire village nestled in the red hills and cradled by the gently lapping waters of great lake. A chilly late autumn wind swept across the lake through the village, carrying with it the mingling scents of smoke and hay, dead leaves and fish brine. Though the sun's rays had not yet broken through the eastern horizon, the horses were already stirring in their stalls. An old barn owl, satiated after a successful night of hunting, hooted softly and rustled its feathers before perching on a rustic ceiling beam to slumber for the day.

But the boy wasn't looking down at the village. He was looking up at something in the sky.

Her gaze followed his up into the sky. A a lone star, a twinkling yellow sparkle of light in the eastern skies.

A Golden Star.

As if he sensed her presence, the boy turned his face to hers and their eyes met. Something lit up in his eyes. Surprise? The boy stood up from where he sat and slowly started walking towards her.

Then she was drifting, drifting, drifting…

The barn loft and the boy, who was now running and shouting after her, were shrinking, shrinking, shrinking...

Drifting, drifting, drifting….

She was now outside the crystal ball.

A cloud once again filled the ball, smoking, thinning, clearing.

Diora was back in her chair, back in the fortune teller's shop, gazing fixedly into the crystal ball.

A voice, thick and raspy, whispered to her,

The inevitable time is soon to come, be it for good or evil.  
Your spirit dances under the moon of uncertainty.  
Your star shines ever more in the dominion of the Red Dragon.  
Your reflection is cast in the mirror of illusion, darkness, and blood.  
The great power of the sacred blood within you will emerge.  
Fate will lead you to one who is destined to stand vigilant in the shadows.  
As he shall be your savior, so you shall be his.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what's up with the star? I love symbolism and recurring themes. This story will have lots of references to those little twinkling celestial object that dots our night skies. I thought I would make it a personal challenge to try to include the word "star" at least once in every chapter, kind of like Psych (love that tv show, so sad it's over! T_T) and the elusive pineapple. I dunno, we'll see it I'm up to the task.


	2. Ominous Reflections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ivy League bound Diora Starr's life was in perfect order until the eve of her 18th birthday, when a fortune teller predicted blood and darkness in her future. After a series of near death experiences, Diora begins to believe that she may truly be cursed. Things only seem to get worse, until one night, a disembodied hand reaches out of the bathroom mirror and tries to pull her in!

Diora Starr never knew what fate really had in store for her. She had her passions and her dreams, and like every normal teenage girl, her life was full of hopes and worries and exhilaration. She was ever always the practical and proper child: the teacher's pet, the straight A-student, the apple of her parents' eyes, the overachiever who always carried herself with dignified confidence. She loved books, especially books about epic adventures and romance. In all, she was your normal, practical, overachieving, Ivy League bound teenager.

But stories about proper, ordinary people are rather dull.

As it turns out, Diora was soon to find out that she was not so ordinary after all.

This is the story of how the Diora's extraordinary destiny unfolded.

* * *

.o0O0o.

* * *

It was one of those lovely late spring afternoons that had been granted a soft kiss of the pleasant summer to come. The sun's warmth and the cheerful peal of children's laughter enveloped the neighborhood in a delightful gentle air. One house along the street in particular was showered in a bridal flush of pinky-white blossoms, hummed over by a myriad of bees.

Unfortunately, for a certain girl in an upper bedroom of said house, the day was not quite so bright and cheerful. Her cell phone was flashing on her desk, indicating several missed - or rather, in this case,  _ignored_  - messages. An empty tub of butter pecan ice cream had been carelessly tossed amongst a pile of stuffed animals. A half-eaten bag of sour-cream-and-onion potato chips crinkled beneath her as she flung herself across a soft bed in a state of malaise. She groaned wretchedly to herself and buried her face into her pillow. Despite her resolve, the dam holding back her wellspring of sadness cracked, and it was enough for tears to come crashing through.

A knock sounded at her bedroom door.

"Go away! I don't want to talk about it!" the young girl's muffled voice shouted at her visitor. She didn't care to lift her head. She just wanted to hide away in this room and wallow in her sorrow and misfortune.

"I don't care, Diora! The knock was just a courtesy. I'm coming in anyways!" sounded a rather authoritative voice from outside the door.

The bedroom door swung open, and a waifish, boyish girl with a long face, full lips, and a sharp jawline and pointed chin assertively sauntered into the room. Her pronounced features were softened by her very full brows and a wide, doe-eyed expression. She had starry sapphire eyes, which onlookers often mistook for violet, that sparkled with spirit and vivacity. Her ivory and rose-petal complexion was made even more translucent by her ebony hair, cropped in a  _gamine_  style, which suited her childish tomboy appeal.

Though Diora's eyes lacked the striking sparkle of her friend's, they were quite conspicuous in their own way: blue one second and grey the next, and sometimes not quite so blue and yet not exactly grey, either. They were usually very big and clear, full of a deep thoughtfulness that suited her sensible and grounded nature. At the moment, they were clouded over, much like the color of a summer storm.

The rest of Diora's features were softer and more rounded than her friend's; an oval face with delicate brows and a generous mouth. A pink peony glow flushed upon her creamy complexion, and a pair of dimples appeared on her cheeks when she smiled or pursed her lips. Her long chocolate-colored locks were usually neatly tied back in a practical ponytail or twisted up into a bun.

"What do you want, Aeries?" Diora raised her head and looked up at her best friend.

Aeries detected the hint of annoyance in Diora's voice. She scoffed in mock offense and placed a hand across her chest. "Well! Excuse me for being worried about my dearest friend in the world and coming over to make sure she was still alive! You missed class today, and you never miss school. And you've ignored all my calls and messages," she answered, her head swinging in tune to her voice with every word.

"You know why I can't leave the house. I'm cursed, Aeries," Diora moaned. She sat up and reached for the nearby box of tissues on her desk. She blew her nose and then hugged the pillow close to her chest for comfort.

Aeries assertively walked over and plopped down on the bed next to her friend. "Your mom told me about Harvard. I'm sorry about your rejection letter. I don't know how that place can take in Reese Witherspoon, but leave someone was brilliant as you out. You're way better than she is."

"I'll never be able to watch  _Legally Blonde_  again," Diora lamented.

Aeries gasped when her foot bumped into the empty ice cream carton on the carpeted floor beside the bed. "Ice cream! Wait - aren't you lactose intolerant?" Then her hand brushed up against the crumpled up foiled bag on the bed. "And potato chips!" she exclaimed. Aeries shook her head in wonder and suppressed a chuckle, though the laughter was evident in her sparkling sapphire eyes. "Girl, you are going to suffer for that later, I can assure you."

"That fortune teller…she practically predicted my death and cursed me," Diora concluded. "How else can you explain everything that's happened?"

"Getting rejected from Harvard was a due process. All those accidents this past week were just bad luck," Aeries tried to reason with her friend. "And the rest is just hormones," she added for humor.

Diora remained unmoved.

Driving on the road and having a loose pebble crack your windshield was bad luck. Having a giant zit pop up on your face the same day as yearbook pictures day was bad luck. Winning awesome, front row seat tickets to a concert and then finding out they were really tickets to a Justin Bieber show was bad luck.

What Diora had gone through this past week was much, much worse. In fact, she had a different experience for every day of the week so far.

Diora had brushed off nearly being run over by a speeding car immediately after leaving the fortune teller's shop as  _ **merely a coincidence**_ _._

It had been  _ **bad luck**_  when, the following evening during Diora's birthday celebration at her favorite restaurant, she started choking hard enough on her own birthday cake that a waiter needed to perform an emergency heimlich maneuver on her.

The day after her birthday, she had a  _ **near miss**_  when she slipped in the shower and barely managed to catch herself on the bar of the shower door.

She could no longer ignore the real possibility of being  ** _c_** _ **ursed**_  after the incident in chemistry lab, when the contents in her flask had exploded and caught fire, effectively melting the surface of her workstation into a hulking, bubbling glob and nearly singeing her eyebrows off in the process.

After a particularly nasty tumble down a flight of escalators while shopping at the mall (resulting in a minor concussion, multiple bruises, lacerations, and 4 stiches on her left knee), Diora was convinced that  _ **DEATH**_  was out to get her.

"There's a difference between  _bad luck_  and  _NEAR DEATH EXPERIENCES_!" Diora screamed, waving her hands wildly into the air.

Aeries rolled her eyes at Diora's theatrics. "You should consider a career in acting. You would be good at it, especially if it's an angsty, teen telly show. Less  _90210_  and more… hmm… I know! More like  _Dawson's Creek_. That's a classic."

"Ugh! Can't you ever be serious?" Diora buried her head into her pillow.

Apparently, death in the physical sense was not enough. Fate fully intended for her to suffer academic death as well. The courtesy "we sincerely wish you will find fulfillment at another fine institution [just not ours]" note from Harvard arrived in a small envelope by post just yesterday.

And it had all started with that fateful trip to the fortune teller's shop. Diora shuddered, recalling the fortune teller's beady black eyes and weathered face. She could still see those gnarled hands hovering over the crystal ball. Musk, mothballs, and incense permeated her sense of smell. A low, raspy voice penetrated her thoughts….

_The inevitable time is soon to come, be it for good or evil._  
 _Your spirit dances under the moon of uncertainty._  
 _Your star shines ever more in the dominion of the Red Dragon.  
_ _Your reflection is cast in the mirror of illusion, darkness, and blood…_

Aeries adopted a cheerful tone. "Alright. In all seriousness, then, if you really believe that old lady, shouldn't you be a little more excited? Didn't she also predict that you would be rescued by your 'destined true love' or something?"

Diora gawked at her gamine-haired friend, her jaw dropping incredulously. "How—HOW— do you even interpret that from what that disturbing hag said?!"

"Fine, then what was it she said again?"

Diora set the pillow aside and adjusted herself, straightening her back and sitting tall. She cleared her throat before answering, "She said,  _'Fate will lead you to one who is destined to stand vigilant in the shadows. As he shall be your savior, so shall you be his.'"_

"Sounds romantic."

"There's nothing remotely romantic about someone lurking in the shadows!"

"Think about it. What if it means that your dream prince will sweep you off your feet? Can I be the maid of honor at the royal wedding? Will you set me up with his hot brother if he's got one?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Aeries. We all know those  _only_  exist in fairy tales. Besides, the way this week has gone, it probably means I'm going to be kidnapped by some creepy, old bald guy."

* * *

.o0O0o.

* * *

That night, Diora restlessly tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep. Outside her window, the moon was a thin, crescent sliver and high up in the sky. Even so, what was visible of the celestial orb was still bright and beautiful tonight, enough to drop silver moonrays through the sheer lace curtains and illuminate her room in airy glow.

She sat up and glanced over at her alarm clock. It was a little past 1 o'clock in the morning. Her gaze shifted over to the tall, antique floor mirror standing on its easel across her room. She could see the reflection of the moon, its luminous glow dancing off the blossoms of the cherry tree outside her window. Something about the mirror seemed to be calling out to her. Watching her.

"Your reflection is cast in the mirror of illusion, darkness, and blood," she whispered, a chill running down her spine as she repeated the fortune teller's words.

* * *

.o0O0o.

* * *

Somewhere, across the universe of space and time, Uldred gazed into the Eluvian mirror and observed the world that existed even beyond The Fade. It was through great difficulty that he had been able to acquire such a treasure and conceal it from the other mages and the templars. Though he had not yet completely mastered it, the Eluvian had allowed him to delve even more deeply into study of the dark arts and blood magic. Imshael, an Ancient One from the Fade with whom Uldred communed, had revealed to him this world free of chains and magical subjugation.

A world in which he could be a god.

Who could have thought that a world full of such wonders could be real? Even amongst the most devout mages in The Circle Tower, the whispered rumors of such a world existed. But that was all it had been—rumors.

Until now.

Ah, yes. And there she was: the key to his rise to ultimate power.

Her image rippled on the surface of the mirror as he caressed her slim, graceful neck. He imagined that the vulnerable, naked flesh there would feel as silky and warm as petals bathing under the gentle rays of the spring sun. He could almost feel her pulse, gently beating there, under the delicate curve of her jaw line. His eyes narrowed and turned cold as he envisioned himself ruthlessly ripping into that creamy column with his dagger.

Her blood: the Eluvian had revealed that it was the final ingredient he needed to achieve his dark curse and open up a portal large enough for him and his followers to enter into her world. As the hot, red blood flowed freshly out of her dying body, his dream would be born to life.

Uldred watched silently as the girl in the vision stared back at him. It almost a shame, that such a beautiful, innocent creature should be sacrificed to fulfill his dark desires.

Almost.

"Soon, my little one, soon," he promised himself. Whispering into the girl's reflection, his black eyes met her blue-grey ones, "On the dawn after a moonless night, when the Golden Star in the eastern morning sky meets the Eye of the Red Dragon constellation."

* * *

.o0O0o.

* * *

Diora woke up the next morning to the smell of a glorious feast awaiting her at the table when she came down for breakfast. All of her favorite breakfast foods: coffee éclairs, bourbon raisin bread, raspberry jam, crepes with Nutella spread, eggs benedict, honey smoked bacon (extra crispy), and an assortment of delectable fresh berries.

"What's all this?" a sleepy-eyed Diora mumbled. She felt like she had just stepped into the Twilight Zone.

Diora's mother beamed as she silently handed Diora a big, white envelope.

Diora's eyes grew large and wide when she saw the embossed yellow, blue, and white insignia stamped on the envelope. She was acutely aware of a light buzzing in her ears, and a series of tingles shooting from the tips of her fingers and zinging through every cell in her body. She wanted nothing more than to just tear into the package and pour over it's contents. Instead, beneath her mom, dad, and younger brother's expectant glances, she took a deep breath and calmly unsealed envelope. It wasn't until after she completely finished reading the letter twice that she finally did what she really wanted to do.

"Ohmigod! OHMIGOD! I'M GOING TO YALE!" Diora squealed, hugging the letter to her chest. She felt like a child on Christmas morning! Getting rejected by Harvard was a long-forgotten, distant memory in the wake of her acceptance into Yale. After all, Ivy League was still Ivy League.

"We're so proud of you and the hard work you put into getting there. We know Harvard was your first choice, but Yale is still an accomplishment," her father added.

Her sixteen-year-old brother Teddy grabbed a slice of the bourbon raisin bread, and in between bites, asked her, "Does this mean you're finally going to stop being a bi-"

"Teddy!" Mother reprimanded him sharply, cutting him off before he could finish the sentence.

"What?! It's the truth!" Teddy argued back.

Diora smirked at her little brat of a brother. She knew he was teasing her, if crudely. She wasn't going to let him, or anyone, or anything ruin this day for her. She made a conscious decision right then and there to forget all about blood, darkness, curses, and death. This was proof that her streak of bad luck was over! And she couldn't wait to share her marvelous news with Aeries!

"Mom, I have to call Aeries and tell her about this!" Diora

Her mom laughed, pleased that Diora seemed to be in better spirits. "Make it quick. You don't want breakfast to get cold. And you don't want to be late for school. I assume you will make it to class today?"

Diora nodded at her mom. Humming to herself, she hopped up the stairs and made her way into her bedroom. With thoughts of sugar and spice and all things nice on her mind, Diora skipped across the bedroom to where her cell phone was charging on her desk.

And abruptly skid to a halt.

 _'That's funny,'_  Diora thought to herself.

For a split second, from the corner of her eye…! She swore she saw a misty grey fog in her bedroom mirror, swirling and distorting her reflection. Diora studied it, silently willing the mirror to do it again. She stared at it until her eyes started to hurt from the strain of unblinking.

When nothing else happened, she shook her head. Maybe she  _had_ imagined it. Anyways, she had a phone call to make, some good news to share, and a delicious breakfast to eat!

* * *

.o0O0o.

* * *

That evening, Diora stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself up in a thick towel that had been warming up in the towel warmer. She smiled blissfully to herself as she dried her hair.

Today had been a glorious day.

An acceptance letter from Yale. An A+ on the pop quiz in calculus. Not a single near-death experience… It seemed like life was finally going to get back to normal after a week of terrible, horrible, very bad, no good days.

 _And_  Diora still had the weekend to look forward to. Aeries and a group of Diora's friends had decided that in honor of Diora's acceptance into Yale, a celebration was in order. One perfect weekend of levity, including a  _Gossip Girls_  marathon, salted caramel cheesecake, and some fun-in-the-sun at Aeries's parents' cabin on the shores of Aster Lake.

Diora's hand squeaked across the foggy mirror as she belted out Katrina and the Waves'  _Walkin' on Sunshine._

" _I'm walkin' on sunshiiiiine...whoa oh! I'm walkin' on sunshiiiiine...whoa oh! And don't it feel good! Hey! Bum bum, doop doop di doop, di doop-!"_

The song caught in the back of her throat as her reflection suddenly rippled and blurred! Diora gasped as a bright white light gashed across the glass surface beneath her fingers. A disembodied hand reached out of the portal and snatched tightly around her wrist in a painful grasp!

_What the hell?! It was trying to pull her into the mirror!_

A strangled cry escaped from her lips. Toiletries neatly arranged on the bathroom counter scattered all across the floor. Her wet feet squeaked across the bathroom tiles as they fought to brace her body against the unknown entity in the mirror.

"NO! LET—ME—GO!" she screamed. She grit her teeth and resisted with all her might, but it was no use. The hand was too strong!

She was up to her shoulder in the mirror now. She felt her strength waning, her resolve weakening…. She closed her eyes and prepared for the worst-!

"Sissy, what's wrong?!" Teddy shouted as he burst through the bathroom door. His cheeks suddenly flushed several shades of crimson red.

"Eh?!" Diora's eyes blinked opened. She was suddenly very aware of the right side of her face pressed hard against the still pulsating glass and the cold air brushing up against her naked flesh. She looked down and saw the thick terry towel in a pool around her ankles.

"AGH! YOU LITTLE PERVERT!" her scream reverberated throughout the house.

* * *

.o0O0o.

* * *

So shaken was she by the sheer horror of that unfathomable experience, that Diora could not bring herself to tell her parents or Teddy the truth about what happened. Instead, she had made up a half-assed tale about slipping in the bathroom. She hated lying to them, but… it… it was just crazy! Who would believe that a disembodied hand could appear out of the bathroom mirror and try to kidnap someone? Even she was having a hard time wrapping her mind around it.

She was sitting up in her bed, her arms curled around her knees. Maybe she had somehow dreamt it all. Perhaps the heat and steam of the hot shower gotten to her. Or worse, she going mad? Had her mind was finally crumbled under the stress of the past week and the pressures of school?

' _What if the fortune teller was right, and you are really cursed_?' a shadow of a doubt nagged at her.

"Oh, God…! What a mind fuck!" she whispered to herself.

When Diora finally fell into a restless sleep that night, it was with a large blanket covering the vintage, easel-backed mirror in her bedroom. Regardless of what was rational and irrational, it gave her a small measure of comfort to know that the blanket was there as a shield to protect her from something that could or could not exist in the mirror.

* * *

.o0O0o.

* * *

Even in the land of dreams, Diora's fears and doubts haunted her.

_Diora was falling into the sky._

_Falling, falling, falling, with a trail of stardust behind her._

_Falling, falling, falling. into the blue veil of the night._

_A gentle gale billowed up beneath her, rocking her to and fro in its lullaby. It enveloped her in a celestial current of melody. In that ethereal summer storm of songs she danced._

_Round and round and round in the singing gale Diora danced. Until she stepped into in a forest glen, a circle of trees crowned with leaves of gold. Beneath the breathless moon, in the circle of trees, a silver glass lake beckoned to to her._

_Among the fairy flowers and glittering toadstools she gingerly stepped, until she reached the banks of the silvery waters. How still and quiet was her reflection as she gazed into it. She dipped a hand into it and sent sparkling trails rippling into the waters._

_The ripples spread across the lake. The ground started to tremor. They sky was suddenly empty of moon and stars. The once silver waters began to bubble and turn black._

_And suddenly, there were bloody hands. Countless, bloody, disembodied hands. Reaching for her. Clawing at her. Pulling her into the water._

_Diora screamed._

_She was drowning._

_Drowning in the glass lake._

_Darkness closed in upon her._

* * *

.o0O0o.

* * *

When she woke up the next morning, Diora was every bit as refreshed and well-rested as the 'real' princess from the  _The Princess and the Pea._  Which meant she felt as though she had spent the entire night sleeping with a giant bowling ball underneath her mattress. Unfortunately, unlike the princess in the fairytale, it didn't mean that she got to marry a handsome prince and live happily ever after.

Finding said handsome prince was the least of Diora's worries right now. Although she was suddenly very concerned about her happily ever after.

"Maybe you imagined all of it," she told herself that morning.

She could not avoid the bathroom forever. Her friends would be here soon, and Diora needed to get ready and pack up her toiletries. So it was with great trepidation that she wandered into the upstairs bathroom that morning to do her usual business. Then while brushing her teeth, she swore her reflection in the mirror had once again blurred and swirled. She zipped out of there so fast that she accidentally swallowed her toothpaste.

So she was not going mad after all.

The way her bedroom mirror had flickered yesterday morning. The incidents in the bathroom yesterday evening and then again this morning. Some sinister force was trying to get to her through the mirrors. She was now sure of it.

Which led Diora to a baffling dilemma.

' _How am I going to live the rest of my life without looking into a mirror?'_  she thought as she packed her belongings for the weekend trip at Aster Lake. Her duffle bag was refusing to cooperate with her.

Mom called out from the base of the stairs. "Hurry up! The girls are here!"

"Alright, Mom! Be down in a minute!" Diora shouted. She grit her teeth and struggled to zip up her luggage. "Why-won't-you-zip?! UGH!" With a groan of frustration, she took out the extra pair of sneakers she had tried to squeeze in at the last minute and tossed them over her shoulder.

The sneakers landed with a dull thud against her covered-up mirror before plopping down on the floor in front of it.

Diora zipped up her duffle bag and strapped it around her shoulders.

She never heard the rustling of the comforter as it slid slowly off the mirror…

Didn't see the bright white light ripping across the swirly, undulating glass surface…

Couldn't even scream out as one hand reached out and closed up over her lips and the other wrapped itself around her waist, whisking her away from the only world she had ever known.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Diora suddenly finds herself in a strange, new world - and in the arms of a man named Alistair.


	3. The Savior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair is minding his own business until, out of nowhere, a strange girl literally bumps into him in Denerim's Marketplace.

Alistair, dressed in his newly crafted Grey Warden-heraldry-emblazoned suit of armor, held his head up high as he and Duncan walked out of Wade's Emporium in Denerim's Market District. Just a mere three weeks ago, he had been hopelessly resigned to live out his life as a templar, a fate which he had often considered worse than death. That was before the tourney the Chantry had held in honor of Warden-Commander Duncan's visit. The day of the tourney had marked a defining moment in Alistair's life. It was the day Duncan had recruited him into the Grey Wardens. Even then, the Grand Cleric had been reluctant to give him up, and Duncan had been forced to use the Right of Conscription.

It had been the happiest day of Alistair's life.

He was no longer Alistair, the bastard child whose existence had been a burden and a potential threat to the country. He was now Alistair, a proud Grey Warden, upon whose shoulders the fate of Ferelden rested with the looming Blight.

"Alistair…Alistair…!"

Duncan's voice snapped Alistair from his reverie. Alistair blinked a few times and turned to face his mentor and leader. "Oh-yes! Yes, Duncan," he replied, clearing his throat. His embarrassment was apparent despite his best attempts to now appear attentive.

Duncan chuckled at the newest and youngest member to join the brotherhood. How young he was! And still naive, in his own way. Despite the fact that Alistair had been bested thrice in the tourney, Duncan had admired Alistair's character most above all of the templars present. He also had his own personal reasons for recruiting the boy, but what mattered most was that this young man had a good, loyal, and courageous heart — qualities that were just as important as a strong sword arm when it came to being a Grey Warden.

Duncan continued, "I have business with King Cailan at the palace. If you'd like, you may remain here in the Market District for the time being. You may meet up with me and the others at the Wardens' heaquarters in Denerim later this evening if you wish."

Alistair paused, pondering Duncan's suggestion. "It  _would_  be nice to stay here and walk around a bit. Yes, actually, I was thinking of visiting The Wonders of Thedas. Arl Eamon took me there the last time he brought me here as a child, and he bought me a miniature golem doll…"

Duncan laughed and nodded. "It's settled, then. I will meet you at the inn later tonight."

Alistair watched Duncan head towards the gates and couldn't help feeling an overwhelming, surreal sense of gratefulness sweep over him. Duncan had saved his life. Alistair would never forget that. And he would always thankful. Duncan disappeared into the bustling crowd of the marketplace. Alistair, humming to himself and half admiring his new Grey Warden shield, turned and made his way towards The Wonders of Thedas.

* * *

.o0O0o.

* * *

"I've got you this time, girl," a voice as cold as ice echoed from the mirror.

 _'OMIGOD! This is really happening! I'm being dragged in!'_  Diora thought as the blinding white light enveloped her.

The hands dragged her through a swirling abyss of violet, black, and grey. The roaring sound of waves crashing in the darkness filled her ears. Her body felt like it was being crushed in a room of thick, poisonous gas. Her muffled screams were to no avail, and she fought against will to free herself from the arms that tightened like a noose around her body.

Slowly, in the distance, a white doorway appeared in the darkness. Its light was cold and harsh. She was being pulled towards that door! Something in her heart warned her that she must not go through that door! The closer she got to it, the more Diora became aware that her body no longer felt as though it were being squeezed through a wormhole. The air felt lighter, and she breathed easier. This gave her a renewed strength. Realizing this might be her only chance to escape, she started bucking and screaming, pounding and clawing at the arms wrapped around her.

And then, she was suddenly free!

Diora swam away as quickly as she could from the hands, which were now violently grasping at her feet. "No, let me go!" she cried out, kicking wildly at them. She looked up and saw another light glowing above her. It was more of a small window rather than a doorway, its yellow rays softer and warmer than those of the doorway.

Hope surged in her heart. She grit her teeth and swam in a final, desperate lunge towards the light.

* * *

.o0O0o.

* * *

"NNNOOOO!" Uldred screamed into the Eluvian as his prey disappeared from sight. He bit his lips in anger, ignoring the sharp pain and the metallic taste of blood.

He had been so close! Just a few more seconds, and he would have had her before him in flesh and blood. He cursed himself for having let his guard down, for being fooled by his confidence into believing he had her in his clutches. He hadn't expected her to be so strong or put up such a fight.

"No matter," he tried to console himself. "I've surely pulled her into Thedas. The Eluvian will guide me to where she emerges."

Uldred looked down at his bloody hands and clenched them into fists as he cast a healing spell on them. For now, he could only watch her from the Eluvian. He would need time to recuperate before attempting another spell to draw the girl to him. The summoning spell's requirement of blood had taken a considerable toll on his constitution. Even his blood, he knew, had not been enough to draw her from her own world to Thedas. The only reason the summoning spell had worked was because  _she_  was the one who had been called upon. It was the sacred and unknown power of the blood flowing in  _her_  veins that had made the summoning possible.

* * *

.o0O0o.

* * *

Diora gasped for air as she broke through the light. She landed on an unforgiving, cold surface and winced in pain. Something dull and heavy hit her in between the shoulders, knocking the breath out of her. She turned to look, and even in her shocked, dazed state she could see that the thing which had hit her was…her duffle bag?

A sudden, piercing scream and a flurry of footsteps and commotion drew Diora's attention to her new surroundings. Diora's blue-grey eyes blinked a few times and widened in shock.  _'Where…?! Where am I?!'_  she thought alarmingly. She quickly assessed that she was in a dusty, exotic antique store of sorts….

And everyone was dressed in what appeared to be medieval clothing! And they were all cowering around her, staring back at her with horrified expressions on their faces. She grew faint as a crushing sensation tightened around her chest.

"Maker, help us! She came out of the mirror!" shouted a young man garbed in flowing robes.

"Momma, what is it?!" cried a little boy, hiding behind his mother's skirts.

"A demon! Andraste's mercy! A demon girl came out of that mirror!" exclaimed an older woman, pointing an accusing finger at her.

"Help! Where are the templars! Call for the templars!" a lady who was dressed in a fine gown started screaming.

 _'Wait? Are they calling_ me  _a demon?! Omigod—OMIGOD! I have to get out of here!'_  Despite feeling like she had been chewed up and then spit back out, Diora somehow managed to get to her feet. She snatched her duffle bag off the floor. She dashed for the door at the front of the store, sending a stone bust on a pedestal crashing to the floor and knocking over a stand of books along the way.

The crowd screamed and quickly parted a way for her. No one dared to touch this demon girl that had appeared from that old, rusty mirror in the back of the store. One minute, the whole store had been blinded in a bright, golden light. The next thing everyone knew, this abomination had emerged through the glass surface!

"Okay, this definitely isn't my bedroom! What is this place?!" Diora asked herself, flinging the door wide open and running into the bustling alley. She noticed the curious stares and pointing fingers of those she passed on the cobblestone street.

She skid to a halt at the end of the alley.

Her jaw dropped when she saw the lively market square in front of her. In a trance-like state, Diora slowly turned around in a complete circle to take in the scene before her. It looked like the Renaissance Festival that she went to every year, only a hundred times grander in scale! Had she somehow been transported back in time?!

Bright red and gold flags swayed gently from the tall stone ramparts in the square. A throng of people all came together in a spectacular awakening of a busy hive. Unfolding to greet the glorious morning, windows flung open as shopkeepers almost simultaneously opened up their linear array of shops, exposing the colorful interiors and filling the streets with the exuberance of life. Children laughing and playing in the square… Cats chasing after one another... In the middle of the square, textile merchants were showing off their fabrics to the ladies… The fresh aroma of a baker's sweet, buttery perfume filled her senses…

"WHERE THE HELL AM I?! I'm dreaming! This has to be a dream!" She shook her head and closed her eyes. "When I open my eyes, I'll be back in my bedroom…! Everything will be back to normal."

"There she is! The demon girl who appeared at The Wonders of Thedas!"

"Halt, in the name of the Maker!"

Diora's eyes popped open, and she shrieked as the armed guards ran towards her. They carried shields emblazoned with a fiery sun, and their swords gleamed coldly in the morning light.

"HURRY UP AND WAKE UP!" she screamed to herself in sheer panic. She pinched herself on the arm. Hard. When that didn't work, she slapped herself a couple of times. The throbbing welt on her forearm and her stinging cheeks indicated that-

A cold, clammy sense of dread dropped on her like a ton of bricks.

_THIS. WAS. NO. DREAM._

_This was real. So very, VERY real._

She had somehow inexplicably been transported through time and landed in the Middle Ages.

And those templars…! They were coming for her!

She stifled a cry. She was left with no other choice than to run as fast as she could away from the soldiers. Fighting back tears and holding tightly onto her duffle bag, which she had strapped across her shoulders as though it were a shield, she desperately pushed her way into the crowd.

* * *

.o0O0o.

* * *

Alistair heard the commotion in the square as he made his way over to The Wonders of Thedas. "What could be going on, I wonder?" he pondered quietly. From the frantic cries of the townsfolk, he made out the words "help" and "demon." He instinctively reached for his sword when a young woman squeezed through the group of people in front of him and ran smack dab right into him, nearly knocking him over!

Before Diora could cry out, a pair of strong hands swiftly reached out around her arms and steadied her. "No! Let me go! I'm not a demon, please!" she pleaded, struggling to free herself from the stranger's grasp. Fearing that she had been captured, she looked up, lips trembling. The stinging tears she had been holding back burned a pair of hot trails down her cheeks.

Alistair's breath caught in his throat. He felt his scalp crinkle, and an odd sensation, like he had seen that face before in a dream or a past lifetime prickled in his stomach.

A young woman - and quite a pretty one. Her dark hair, which had been tied back in a bun, came undone when she bumped into him and now spilled gloriously down her back. He gasped when his eyes gazed down into hers. They were like the color of Lake Calenhad on a stormy day. She was of petite stature, not even reaching his shoulders. He easily could have mistook her for a child, but for the soft curves underneath her shift-

' _Wait - her shift? ANDRASTE'S FLAMING SWORD! Why is she running about the marketplace half naked, in nothing but her shift?!'_  he screamed mentally.

"You there, halt!" the senior templar ordered through the throng of folks, interrupting Alistair's thoughts.

Alistair looked over the heads of the crowd and saw a pair of templars quickly making their way towards them. Searching for the girl, no doubt. His eyes hardened in resolve. Though he could not explain why, he knew he had to protect her. There would be time for questions later. Right now, he needed to help her get away from them.

Diora gasped as the young man tugged her arm. She stumbled behind him into a different alleyway. He brought a gloved finger up to her tremulous lips, motioning for her to be quiet. He quickly scanned the area before leading her to the end of the alley. They squeezed in together in a cramped space between two buildings and crouched low behind some wooden crates and barrels of apples. He whipped the canvas off an empty cart next to them and pulled it over them, using it and his body to conceal her from view just before the soldiers ran into the alley.

"I think she ran over there!"

"Quickly, don't lose her!"

Diora tightly closed her eyes and held her breath, silently willing the soldiers away. ' _God, please! Please don't let them find me!'_  she silently prayed fervently.

' _Why are they after her?'_ Alistair wondered. He felt her tremble against him, probably because the templars were literally five feet from them. He had one arm braced up against the stone building next to them, holding up the canvas over them; the other rested on her shoulder. How small and fragile she seemed against his frame. As softly as he could, he squeezed her shoulder reassuringly.

"She's not here!"

"Let's check the square again."

Diora shifted to rise from her hiding place. A gentle tug on her shoulder knocked her back down against a hard chest of metal plate.

"Not just yet," Alistair whispered, stopping her from rising. "They might come back."

' _Oh, yeah! I was so worried about those guys, I forgot about him!'_ Diora's head snapped up and she turned back to lock eyes with her rescuer.

Her heart skipped a beat.

In her previous state of sheer panic and haste to escape the soldiers, she completely missed how incredibly handsome this guy was!

Time seemed to have stilled.

But now... here... in that little cramped space in between two buildings, amidst the apple barrels and beneath an oiled tarp... Diora felt like she had fallen into a dream that she quickly did not want to awaken from.

In the soft semi-translucent light seeping through the thin leather canvas, she could clearly make out her rescuer's face. He had strong, chiseled features and a very straight nose. His forehead was wide, with thick brows. His honey colored blond hair was cut short, but stuck up rather untidily in the front - she wondered if that was done on purpose? A day's worth of dark golden stubble shaded his jawline. Friendly light brown eyes stared back at her. A dizzying sense of wonder filled her, and the dawning realization that she very much enjoyed how the fine lines around his eyes crinkled when he smiled at her left her breathless.

For as long as she lived, whenever she smelled the scent of apples and oiled leather, it would forever remind her of this very moment.

Then the spell was broken.

She was just about to return his smile when she suddenly remembered where they were and why they were there. She became incredibly conscious of how very close she was to him, nestled in his armored chest. She could feel the strength in his body. His steady, warm breath tickled the small of her neck. His left hand gently held her left shoulder, the gloved fingers lightly grazing the delicate skin past her collarbone. He stirred something deep within her, sending a tingle coursing throughout her body.

What was wrong with her?! Since when did being around some guy cause her to not think straight?! And she needed to think, especially now! She needed to find a way out of this Middle Ages time warp and get back home. There were tons of cute guys at home, at school, and even then it wasn't like she went all dreamy-eyed around them.

Feeling a flush rising to her cheeks, she bashfully turned away from him. ' _Pull yourself together, Diora! Reality check! It's just some boy! It's not like you've never seen a boy before!'_  she mentally chastised herself, shifting uncomfortably in place.

Alistair, sensing a change in her mood, cleared his throat and glanced up over the crates. "I think it's safe to come out now."

Diora carefully tiptoed out of their hiding place. It was all clear. With a giant sigh of relief, she collapsed into a heap in the middle of the alley.

Alistair knelt down next to the girl and inadvertently brushed his arm against her own. "Who are you? Why are the templars after you?"

"St-stay away, you!" Diora scrambled up, grabbed a couple of apples from one of the barrels and chucked one at him. It bounced off his armor with a loud metallic thunk and landed on the dirt with a dull thud before rolling away. She held the other apple up in the air threateningly. Now that they were back out in the open, whatever closeness she had felt for him earlier dissipated, and she was on her guard again.

Alistair immediately took a step back and waved his hands up in front of himself in mock self-defense. "Hhhheyyyyy! I just got this suit of armor this morning, you know! It's brand new!"

This immediately threw Diora off guard. Out of all the possible reactions, she hadn't expected him to crack a joke. She raised her brows and blinked wide, bewildered eyes back at him.

Alistair picked up an apple and took a bite. It was crisp and the perfect blend of sweet and tart. "Umm... delicious! Would you like one? They're quite good."

Diora was at a loss for words. She shook her head, that same, bewildered look from before on her face.

"And as much as I enjoy eating apples myself, I'm not terribly keen on death by apple throwing." Alistair continued good-naturedly, amused laughter in his voice.

Diora relaxed her throwing arm, but still remained on guard. "J-just stay away!"

Alistair brushed an imaginary bit of apple splatter off his armor and, noticing that she had relaxed a little, introduced himself to her, "Now, there's no need to worry. I promise, I won't hurt you. I'm Alistair. What's your name?"

Diora studied this 'Alistair' warily, taking in the rest of the details. Like those who had been chasing her, he, too, wore a suit of metal armor. He carried a shield with an emblem of a white and blue winged creature and had a sword strapped on his back. He was tall, at least 6 feet, but at her meager 5 foot height, everyone was taller than her. Judging from his powerful, muscular frame, he was definitely not 'just some boy' as she had categorized him earlier. ' _A soldier? Maybe, but more like a knight,'_  she thought to herself. While she still agreed with her previous assessment that yes, he was indeed a very handsome man, did he have to have such a sexy British accent, too? With a voice like his, he could read her Harvard rejection letter aloud and still be make her swoon…

' _I can't believe that out of the entire 18 years of your life to finally notice a guy, you choose NOW? REALLY?!'_  a little voice inside her head called common sense reprimanded her.

"I'm Diora. Diora Starr!" she answered his questions, sounding more hostile than she intended.

While Diora had been assessing this Alistair, she had no idea how  _she_ must look to him. What a vision she was, with her long dark hair wild and loose about her and her blue-grey eyes thoughtfully considering him. Her creamy complexion was flushed and her dusky lips parted with breath, probably from all the exertion of running earlier. Her deeply heaving chest-

" _Maker's breath!_ " a furious whisper escaped Alistair's lips and interrupted Diora's thoughts.

"Wh-what?! HEY! Wait! NO! What are you-!" Diora sputtered out, alarmed. The worst had come to mind, and she thought maybe those 'templars' had returned. To her confusion, Alistair instead whisked the canvas from earlier off the ground and briskly wrapped it around her shoulders.

"And  _why_  in the Maker's name are you dressed in nothing but a blazing  _shift_?!" he demanded in a heated tone of voice, perhaps a tad harsher than he'd meant it to sound. The truth of the matter was that some rather inappropriate thoughts had spontaneously popped into his mind. The gentleman in Alistair was utterly ashamed of himself, while ogler in him was horrified that she might somehow guess where his thoughts had been leading.

"A blazing…?" Diora furrowed her brows and shook her head in puzzlement. ' _What is he talking about?'_  she asked herself. She looked down and examined her clothing, and then glanced back up at Alistair, who made a great show of averting his eyes from her. And he was blushing! He was actually blushing!

Then it dawned on her.

She was wearing a white, spaghetti strap, eyelet lace sundress that fell just a couple of inches above her knees. She had been getting ready to go to the lake, and wanted to wear something springy and summery. In the modern world, this was considered quite modest and fresh and youthful, but here...it was considered underwear! She burst out laughing.

Alistair stared at Diora. Had she gone mad?

Slowly, of their own volition, Diora's hands began trembling uncontrollably. Her shoulders began shaking, and her legs suddenly felt like jello underneath her. Tears glistened over her eyes and blurred her vision.

She started to cry.

For Alistair, this was the  _worst_  possible thing that could happen.

' _Oh, no...'_ Alistair thought, feeling like the lowest piece of scum ever to walk Thedas. ' _I - I - I made her cry!'_

He was completely out of his element. And absolutely paralyzed. Never, in his entire life, in all his years of training at the monastery or during his short time with the Grey Wardens, had anyone ever told him what to do when a girl, especially a  _pretty girl_ , started crying. What in the bloody Fade was he supposed to do?

Diora's shoulders were now wrecked with full sobs. She buried her face into her hands. She realized her whole world has just turned upside down. She was lost and alone. The people here thought she was a demon and wanted to kill her!

And she was scared.

Every fiber in Alistair's being wanted to do nothing more than wrap her in his arms, but he didn't even know her! Sure, he had held her close just a minute ago, but this was different! Then, they had been forced to hide in tight quarters. He didn't want to make matters worse by offending her. But then again, he could not just stand by while she cried, could he?

Finally, Alistair knelt down next to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. His hand felt large and clumsy on her delicate frame. He gulped. "Don't...cry," he said awkwardly, giving her shoulder a tiny squeeze.

He was caught off guard when, with an unexpected burst of strength, she forcefully pushed him away from her. It was enough to make him lose his balance and fall several steps back, right into a barrel of apples, strewing about the luscious red fruit while she reached for her pack and dashed towards the square.

"Hey! Wait!" he shouted, scrambling up. He ran as fast as he could, his metal boots ringing against the dusty road. His eyes scanned the crowds, and he caught a quick glimpse of her just up ahead. He was almost caught up to her when a merchant's wagon suddenly rolled out in front of him, blocking her from his view.

By the time he ran around it, she was gone.

* * *

.o0O0o.

* * *

_'I'm sorry, Alistair...! You were so kind, but I can't... I just couldn't-!'_

Diora meandered through the throng of shoppers and merchants, the canvas snugly wrapped around herself. She had wanted more than anything, in that brief moment of weakness, to tell him everything that had happened to her. But what good would that have done? What would he think if she told him that she came from the future? Just this very morning, through a mirror? He might think she was crazy, or worse… He might think she was a demon, just like those people in the antique store. For some strange reason, a part of her could not bear the thought of this Alistair turning against her.

And then a thought popped into her mind.

It was ridiculous, she knew, but she was desperate, and it was worth a shot. She reached into the side pocket of her duffle bag and pulled out her Samsung Galaxy smartphone. The brief flicker of hope that lit up her eyes extinguished when she saw the notification bar.

No. Freaking. Signal.

 _'Well,_ _ **that**_   _was a brilliant idea, Diora! You're stuck in the Middle Ages! Cell phone towers are centuries away from being invented, dummy!'_  Diora breathed in a deep, heaving sigh and firmly resolved that she would absolutely not start crying again. She glanced around her surroundings, feeling more forlorn than ever.

"Damn it! What I wouldn't do for a Good Witch of the South and a pair of magical ruby slippers," she bitterly complained to herself.

That was when she caught her reflection in a mirror hanging up one of the market's jewelry stands.

The mirror!

No, not the mirror in the jewelry stall, but  _THE MIRROR_  - the one back in the antique shop! If she had come through it, maybe it could take her back home! Sort of like the looking glass in the Adventures of Alice in Wonderland!

As preposterous and impossible and illogical as the idea sounded to her -  _'Seriously-using a mirror as a time machine?' -_ the impossible had already happened! A pair of disembodied hands had indeed kidnapped her and brought her here back in time through a mirror. What else was there that she couldn't possibly believe to exist or be true or probable? Yes! Given everything she'd just been through, this was a feasible plan. She was not going mad.

"You, there! Watch where you're going! If you're not going to purchase anything, move along!" an angry sounding voice berated her.

It shouldn't have been possible, especially after what she just experience, but Diora felt like her world had just come crashing down. Again. She stared slack-jawed, but not at the human merchant who had just yelled at her.

She stared at the  _ELF_  standing next to him behind the stall.

It couldn't be! Elves were creatures of magical lore. Several different expressions crossed Diora's face as she came to grips with this realization. Yes. Those were very and decidedly pointy ears. She blinked and took another look around the square, and she felt another anxiety attack coming on.

In addition to the humans and pointy-eared elves bustling around in the marketplace, she also saw a number of short, stocky individuals conducting their business in the square.

_DWARVES._

What was next, talking animals and dragons? As if somehow being transported back in time were not bad enough… She wasn't even on Earth anymore! Where…  _THE FUCK_ … was she?!

"What are you staring at, girl?" The merchant narrowed his eyes at her.

' _Breathe. Just breathe. And don't even think about-!'_  Diora knew she shouldn't, but she simply had to know. She pointed at the elf. "Your ears… are they real? Are you... an elf?"

Judging from the look of loathing the elf gave her, Diora took it as a yes. She gulped and slowly took a step back.

The merchant didn't take kindly to this odd girl. He noticed the makeshift cloak and the pack tucked underneath her arm. "What are you hiding there? Are you a thief?! C'mere! We do not abide thieves in the marketplace! Guards!"

"NO!" shrieked Diora as he reached for her. The tarp fluttered into the air as Diora lost her balance and tumbled to the ground. "Ouch...!" she moaned, rubbing her side.

"Eek! Isn't that the girl who came out of the mirror!"

"Over there! It's her!"

"Catch her!"

"NOOOOO! Please!" sobbed Diora as a pair of templars caught her and painfully gripped her arms.

"It's off to Aeonar with you! Attempt to do anything, and we will not hesitate to cut you down!" one of the templars threatened her as they dragged her away.

_'MOM! DAD! OH, GOD! PLEASE SAVE ME!'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Diora comes face to face with Uldred in a terrifying encounter.


	4. A Waking Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The templars have captured Diora and are on route to deliver her to Aeonar. Uldred has a plan in intercept them so that he may finally be able to kill Diora and use her blood for his dark curse.

Growing up, Diora had always considered herself the inhabitant of two worlds. One was the real world, where she lived with her family and friends. The other was the world of books, especially ones that sang of epic adventures and romance set in worlds of fantasy. Diora had flown on the back of a dragon with the Dragonriders of Pern and studied in the halls of Hogwarts with Harry, Ron, and Hermoine. She had lamented with Gilgamesh when the gods sentenced Enkidu to death and sailed on a treacherous voyage to the ends of the earth with Odysseus's crew. Diora had stepped into the land beyond the looking glass with Alice and made the harrowing journey with Frodo into the heart of Mordor on a quest to destroy the One Ring.

Yet in her wildest imaginings, she never once truly expected to be the main character in her own, brutally real, fucked up adventures of  _a girl from the modern world trapped in a place somewhere in between Wonderland and Middle Earth_. And unlike the long, narrative stories she so loved escaping into, judging from what she overheard the templars saying to each other, her adventures were going to be nowhere near  _epic_.

Epic entailed a long narration. Her own case didn't even fall into the novella category.

The templars were taking her to a prison called Aeonar.

Once they reached Aeonar, they would execute her.

A short story.

Truthfully, Diora much rather preferred a quick death to rotting away and going mad in some dungeon in a strange land far from home. Still, that thought did not hold the fears of pain and death at bay. She hoped they wouldn't torture her before they killed her, that death would be swift.

She spent the first few hours crying and resigning herself to her fate. Diora endured a punishing day riding in a rickety prison wagon, with the constant creaking of ungreased wheels grating against her ears. Her cheeks were grimy from road dust and stained with streaks from her tears. She had absent mindedly chewed her nails down to ugly little stubs.

A foul countryside stench akin to that of garbage and wet dogs sank her already drooping spirits. An evening cold was slowly creeping in, chilling her to the bones. Her body ached everywhere, and she longed for nothing more than to be back home, for the heat of a hot bath to warm her up and soothe her sore muscles. Hunger clawed at her stomach, and her mouth watered yearningly for the apples from the marketplace.

Thinking about the apples brought on a wave of heartache and regret.

That young man from the marketplace. Alistair. Diora could not stop thinking about him and wondered if she would be better off now if she had decided to stay with him. Of course she would be better off! His eyes had looked upon her with such kindness. Why had she allowed her fear to prevent her from trusting him? Why had she ever run away from him? And now, she would never get to thank him or see him again.

The wagon groaned to a stop.

The templars who captured her decided to stop at a farmhouse to rest for the night. They soon locked up the prison cart (and her along with it) in a barn. She could hear them outside, reassuring each other that the anti-magic wards they'd placed on the building would prevent her from using any magic to escape.

Then they started discussing a mirror.

Diora gasped and perked her ears from more information.

The templars had also confiscated the mirror from which she surfaced! She overheard them talking about delivering it to a 'circle.' In fact, Diora had heard this 'circle' mentioned multiple times today… something about making a stop there before taking her Aeonar. Whatever this 'circle' was, the templars had the mirror and would be taking it there!

Any sorrow or regret Diora had felt was suddenly replaced with hope. She still had a chance to get back home! Aeonar and this 'circle' were days away, according to what she heard. Between now and then, if she could somehow free herself, get her hands on that mirror, and try stepping into it, then maybe…!

* * *

.o0O0o.

* * *

Watching the current events unfolding before him in his Eluvian, Uldred smiled to himself. He'd been worried at first, after losing her in the portal. What a stroke of good luck that she had emerged in Ferelden, in The Wonders of Thedas, of all places!

He knew the templars would be stopping at the Circle, and it would be easier to kill her when they arrived. But that could be days away. He only had a small window of opportunity to succeed in his plan, and time was slipping away quickly. The spell to connect both worlds was strongest when the Golden Star appeared brightest in the morning sky and aligned with the Eye of the Red Dragon constellation; it grew weaker with each passing day as the distance between the two stars grew apart. Losing her in the portal had cost him the chance to perform the sacrificial spell at that critical moment. Within a day or two, the spell would completely useless until the next occurrence of alignment. He could not waste time and wait for her to come to him.

He would go to her.

* * *

.o0O0o.

* * *

The templars had stopped at a freehold to rest for the night, blissfully unaware of the evil presence observing them through the gilded framed mirror while they dined around the farmer's table. They decided amongst themselves that each would take a turn guarding the prisoner in the barn tonight. After supper, they bid their kind host and his wife good night. The two elder members of the order settled down in their sleeping bags in the common room. The youngest member of the group, Carastor, would take the first watch.

Carastor, known as Caras by his comrades, was a stocky, fresh-faced young man who had taken his vows just earlier this year. After being posted at Ferelden's Circle Tower for the past three months, he had been allowed leave to go to Denerim to visit his sister and ailing mother. Since he was already going to be returning to The Tower after his trip, he'd also been assigned to escort this prisoner and the mirror as far as the Circle Tower on his return trip.

His comrades were already snoring by the time Caras was ready to head out the door. His hand was on the doorknob when he caught something out of the corner of his eye. He turned around and frowned.

That mirror.

Its age was unknown, but its condition was quite excellent, with just a few minor scratches on its frame. The frame was carved from a large, single piece of wood and gilded in gold leaf. Its straight edges lacked the ornate scrollwork and embellishments typically found in antique mirrors, but that was made up for in bold geometry. It was a long, full length looking glass with a rectangular bottom, and whoever crafted it had cut a perfect half circle off the very top, creating a graceful scallop that dipped into and across the top of the mirror. A small, intricate five-petaled flower was engraved at the two points where the sides of the mirror met the curve of the cut. A decorative urn and leaf motif adorned the lowest part of the curve, and a single, delicate vine tasseled along down each of the sides. The cut created the illusion of a tall invisible curtain, and the looking glass was a stage.

It was only for a split second, but he swore he saw a shadow blur across his reflection. The oddest tingling sensation that the mirror was staring back at him prickled the hairs on his back.

He didn't like it. Not one bit.

Caras cautiously approached the mirror, with the intent to cover it up with his cloak. He didn't even have time to shout out a warning as a sinister violet glow engulfed him into the darkness.

* * *

.o0O0o.

* * *

A scream woke her up.

Heart pounding and hairs standing on end, Diora stared into the darkness and listened.  _'Something's not right…'_

She lifted her head at the sound of footsteps crunching down the path from the farmhouse a few minutes later. She heard a jingle of keys unlocking the padlock and a dull, metallic clang as it hit the dusty ground outside the barn. She furrowed her brows when the barn door creaked open and one of the templars walked in. She recognized him as the one named Caras. His golden hair gleamed in the moonlight.

As did his bloody sword.

"No! Please!" she cried him, tucking herself into the smallest ball possible in the far corner of her cage.

He didn't answer her. Instead, he approached the wagon and unlocked the iron gate to her prison. He reached in and pulled her by the hair, twisting it cruelly around his hand, using it like a leash to drag her out of her iron prison. He whipped her around and forced her to the ground. Diora squealed out in pain, turning around to gaze into the eyes of her attacker. They were pure black and burning with malice. His face contorted into a sinister smile. Her eyes widened in terror as he swung his sword down in a swift, powerful blow.

"NOOOO!" cried Diora as he swung the sword down. Somehow, she instinctively knew to roll to her side just so that when the sword slice through the air, it buried itself into the wooden floor inches from her head.

While Caras pried his sword off the floorboards, Diora took advantage of his split second distraction and kicked him in the codpiece with every ounce of strength she had. He buckled over and howled in rage. She felt his metal gloves claw down down the length of her bare legs as he tried to catch her while she scrambled away from him.

Once outside, she slammed the door shut and snapped the padlock in place to buy herself some time. She leapt back and started sobbing hysterically when her attacker's sword lodged itself into the door, its tip protruding outside and narrowly missing her left eye.

Fueled by adrenaline and fear, she frantically half-stumbled, half-sprinted up the stony path on the hill towards the farmhouse. She tripped right before she reached the door and felt a spasm shoot her twisted ankle. She used the door handle as a crutch to help her rise. She swung the door open and screamed.

There was blood everywhere.

The walls were splattered with crimson. The yellow flames crackling in the stone fireplace reflected in a viscous pool of blood seeping over the wooden floorboards. She felt a warm wetness on her cheek and thought it was from her own tears, but the fingers that smeared it away were stained red. Oh, god...! It was even dripping down on her from the ceiling.

The templars had been slaughtered in their sleep. The farmer was dead on the kitchen floor, his head twisted at an odd angle. Diora could see glints of white protruding from his neck. His wife lay beside him. She had a long, gaping wound down her back. An expression of utter horror was frozen on her lifeless face.

"Omigod, omigod, omigod!" Diora breathed over and over. This was not happening. She squeezed her eyes shut and raised a trembling hand up to her lips, swallowing back the rolling urge in her stomach.

Shit!

Why couldn't she think clearly?!

Why were the only thoughts in her head flashing, fast-forwarding scenes from scary movies where the victims died awful, gory deaths? That scene out of  _Scream_  with Randy - right, the rules to surviving a horror movie! She'd never gotten drunk or done drugs before, AND she was still a virgin. Wait! As of  _Scream 4_ , unexpected was the new cliche and virgins could now die!

' _NOW IS NOT THE TIME TO THINKING ABOUT SCARY MOVIES, DIORA! THAT CRAZY TEMPLAR WILL BE HERE ANY SECOND AND HE IS GOING TO KILL YOU! You need to find a weapon. No, no, no! Not a weapon. You can't fight him. You need to find a place to hide!'_

Her eyes scoured the room.

And then she saw the mirror.

The mirror! YES! That could be her way out of here!

But as she limped her way over… The glass - there was something odd and ominous about it. Ultraviolet stormclouds churned and green lightning flashed beneath its surface. Diora could barely make out her own reflection in that dark tempest. Did this mean that some doorway was open? Her legs crumpled beneath her and she collapsed into an exhausted heap in front of it. Her fingers squeaked across the mirror and she held her breath.

Cold. Hard. Glass.

The veneer of poise and presence of mind with which Diora typically carried herself crumbled, along with any vestige of sanity she had remaining. She violently wrung her hand through her hair and clutched at her face like a mad beast before breaking down into wrenching sobs.

"GOD DAMN IT! Why won't you fucking work?! Work for me, God damn you, you STUPID, SON OF A MOTHER FUCK-FUCKING mirror!" she shrieked wildly. She clawed at the mirror, leaving bloody streaks on the cold glass.

She heard the slow creak of a door.

She froze in place, both hands braced against the mirror. Though her back was to the door, she could see everything in the mirror's reflection. She didn't even dare to breathe. She was sweating like a pitcher of ice water on a summer day. It trickled down off her cheeks and dripped onto the wooden floorboards.

The jingle of Caras's boots with each deliberate step towards her tolled like a death knell in her ears. Each little metallic rattle twisted Diora's heart in an excruciating grip, tighter and tighter. Tighter still, until it had acutely paralyzed her senses, and all that remained of her was a wretched, trembling husk of fear and hopelessness clothed in a once snowy virginal dress which was now a crimson death shroud.

His reflection paused in the mirror. He stood behind her and with both hands, raised his sword high.

' _I'm scared…! I am so scared!'_

"NOW, YOU'RE MINE!" he shouted, swinging the steel blade down in one, powerful stroke.

Diora braced for the killing blow.

* * *

.o0O0o.

* * *

They say that your life flashes in front of your eyes before you die. That's only partly true. In that split second, time stands still, and it's not only what you can see - it's also every sorrow and every joy you experienced in your life; it's every dream you dreamed and every dream that you left undreamed.

For Diora, it was her mother's gentle, cooling touch on her forehead whenever she was sick with a fever; the deep, reassuring timbre of her father's laugh mixed her own peals of delight when she was still a child and he would hoist her up high into the air. She saw Teddy's winsome, toothy grin and the mischievous sparkle in Aeries's indigo eyes. The grittiness and velvet creaminess of sweet, salted caramel cheesecake melted in her taste buds; the scent of apples and oiled leather overwhelmed her, and the profound regret of never having fallen in love -!

' _NO.'_

She didn't want to die. She couldn't! Not here. Not...like...this!

The mirror suddenly pulsed like a heartbeat beneath her hands. A massive blast of energy burst open like a firecracker. Its force knocked the blade out of Caras's hand and sent him sprawling back. Searing white heat shot up from the glass through her fingertips and surged across her entire being in an electrifying sparks, awakening something inside her. Ripples of light fluttered across its surface and cast their rays into the dancing shroud of shadows beneath, shearing through the darkness. A mist of gold fell on her, cool and fresh, like being sprayed by an ocean wave on a breezy summer day.

It was like...she had unlocked something.

' _How...beautiful…!'_

A golden light engulfed her.

And then…

* * *

.o0O0o.

* * *

A bright golden light erupted from the Eluvian. Its force sent Uldred flying across his chamber, knocking him into the wall. Like a rag doll, he crumpled into a heap on the stone floor, breathless.

"What…?! What was that?!" he gasped, staring up across the room and into the Eluvian. What manner of magic had that girl summoned from the mirror? Or was it even the mirror? Perhaps it was the girl herself. Whatever it was, it had been strong enough to overcome the blood spell he conjured earlier to possess that templar. A scowl broke out on his face and he rose to his feet. "No! I will not lose this time! I will not lose to her!"

Uldred knew now that attempting to possess Caras through the mirror was not enough to accomplish his goal. He would have to travel through the Eluvian and kill the girl himself. It would be easy enough now that the other two templars were dead. He couldn't waste any time. He would not fail!

* * *

.o0O0o.

* * *

' _Darkness. Am I even alive? Or is this...the afterlife?'_

The last thing she remembered was apples. Odd. Why would she be thinking about apples when she was dying? And there was something more. It wasn't just apples, there had been...a flash of someone's face. Why couldn't she remember the face…?

"Maker have mercy! Are you alive?!" a voice echoed in the darkness.

Diora moaned softly in reply. Though she was slowly coming into consciousness, Diora eyes remained closed. She allowed her thoughts and her others senses to precede her sense of sight. Her memories flooded back.

' _That's right! At the very last moment, the mirror…! It started working! I'm alive! I must be! How else can I feel the throbbing pain in my head. Or taste the blood on my lips? Or even hear that voice? I'm alive! I'm alive!'_ the voice inside her head sang joyously.

She heard a sigh of relief and the same voice, a male voice, continued, "Oh, blessed Andraste! Miss, can you hear me? Please, wake up!" Someone was gently shaking her shoulders. Persistently. It was irritating! Each little sway transferred waves of achiness through her battered body. Diora reluctantly opened her groggy eyes.

And then she was staring the murderer straight in the eyes.

It jolted her to the present like a lightning bolt.

"Oh, thank the Maker you're-uomph!"

"Fuck you! You just get the FUCK away from me!" Diora shrieked madly, wildly kicking and flailing at him. She screamed and raked her hands across his face, drawing blood, causing him to fall on his back and swear a muffled cry into his covered face. Her eyes quickly darted around. ' _SHIT! I thought I made it back home. I'm still stuck here in this- the mirror!'_ She crawled backwards up against mirror. Her frantic fingers groped all over its surface for an outlet, anything. SHIT! It wasn't working anymore! Why wasn't it working?! She had gotten it to work before!

"Please, calm down! I-I know what this looks like to you, but I swear! It wasn't me! Your magic just saved me! Whatever you did when you touched the mirror, it freed me! I was possessed! Something in that mirror, it possessed me! It made me kill my friends, and I couldn't stop it! I was trapped in my own mind, and all I could see were these terrible images…! I could see into his mind and feel… And Maker, what he wanted to do with you…! I don't know why, but he wants to kill you!" Caras's voice broke down and he pound the wooden floorboards with his hand. "Maker forgive me…!" he started sobbing.

Diora barely registered what he was ranting on about before the mirror started humming behind her. She felt the surface vibrate and bubble up and gasped. ' _Could-could it be working again?!'_ She turned to look, only to start screaming at the top of her lungs when a pair of hands broke through the clouded glass and tried to wrap their fingers around her neck

"Andraste have mercy on us!" cried Caras, wrenching Diora away from the mirror. He grabbed his blade in his hands and held it up to the looking glass. They took several steps back.

Out of the storm of violet and grey stepped an older man of middle stature, dressed in thick crimson robes. The wooden staff strapped to his back was polished black, with a silvery crystal ball on its end. The crystal seemed to be glowing with magical energy. A small, curved dagger with an ebony and gold trimmed handle was tied to the purple sash around his waist. Deep wrinkles crossed his forehead and frown lines ran down the sides of his dark lips. He was completely bald, but he had thick black brows. His beady black eyes gleamed coldly at Diora, as though in hunger.

Recognition filled Caras's face. He knew this mage from his time at the Circle Tower. "Uldred! You monster! You! You're responsible for this!" he shouted in disbelief, utterly horrified.

"Ahhhhh, yes, Caras, was it?" Uldred remarked. "I remember you from the Tower."

' _That voice! It's the same voice that I heard this morning in my bedroom!'_  realized Diora, shuddering. This was the one who had brought her here. This was the man who wanted her dead.

The templar in Caras surfaced. Diora felt his body steel up in front of her. "You will die for your transgressions against the Maker, maleficar!"

Uldred rolled his head back and started laughing maniacally. The sound sent shivers up Diora's spine. "You can try, templar, but I've come too far to let you stop me from killing the girl!"

Uldred suddenly released a force of telekinetic energy that knocked both of them back. Caras crashed into the dining table and Diora struck the wall behind him. It knocked the wind out of her and made her insides feel like they had been sucker punched with a giant baseball bat. She sat up, and while trying to catch her breath, choked on some of the blood she was coughing up. Uldred followed his mind blast spell with a wave of fire, which would have scorched her for sure, had Caras not pulled her down behind the overturned dining table, which acted as a shield against the flames.

' _HOLY SHIT, HE'S SHOOTING FLAMES FROM HIS HANDS!'_

"I tire of this!" Uldred declared. He closed his fist and Caras rose up into the air, a silent scream on his lips as Uldred bound him in a crushing prison spell. The templar crumpled to the ground, unconscious. Uldred then turned his hard gaze unto Diora, who was crawling on all fours to escape from him.

"NOOOoo-oooWWWW-ow-ow!" wept Diora as he grabbed hold of her hair and forced her to stand on her feet. She closed her eyes and bit her lips, trying to silence her sobs.

"Look at me… Look at me!" Uldred commanded, pulling her head back so that her eyes would meet his. He had prayed to the demons in The Fade to grant him the perfect sacrifice, and here she was in flesh and blood, the one the Eluvian had shown to him. He had her in his grasp. He could almost taste the fear emanating from her, and it filled him with a sadistic, twisted sense of power. He had wanted her and succeeded in bringing her here. He would surely succeed in the spell to open a portal to her world.

Diora did as he commanded. Her tears were streaming down her face and dripping into the hollow of her chest, where she could feel her heart pounding frantically. She gulped for air. "Pl-please...who are you? What do you want with me?" she begged tearfully, searching in vain for mercy in those pitch black eyes.

"Shh, shh, shh," whispered Uldred. He slid his finger across her neck and rested it over her pulse. Pride welled up within him, and he couldn't resist reveling in his power over her as he revealed his sinister plan. "Right here,' he cooed, "is where I'll use my dagger to cut you. Your blood is the last ingredient I need to carry out my dark curse. I require the blood of an untainted innocent in order to cast my spell. I called you here. I used blood magic to ask the Eluvian mirror to show me the most worthy sacrifice, and it brought you to me. I had to wait quite some time for you, for the perfect moment when the connection between our realms and the Eluvian are at their most powerful, when the Golden Star in the eastern morning sky aligns with the Eye of the Red Dragon constellation." He reached for his dagger.

' _...Your star shines ever more in the dominion of the Red Dragon… Your reflection is cast in the mirror of illusion, darkness, and blood...'_

The fortune teller's words reverberated in her memory.

She finally understood what it all meant.

Diora felt the cold blade press against her neck.

_Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep!_

Diora's eyes snapped opened. ' _My cell phone?! But how?!'_  the thought raced through her mind.

Uldred jerked his head around. "What was that? What is that sound?"

She heard her ringtone start singing:  _'Where do you go when you're lonely? Where do you go when you're blue? Where do you go when you're lonely? I'll follow you... When the stars go blue...'_

Uldred scowled darkly. "Where is that singing coming from? What manner of spell is this that you are casting, girl?!" He jabbed the tip of the dagger into her flesh to force an answer out of her.

She yelped as the sharp tip stung into her. That hurt! It really, really hurt! A delicate trail of blood blazed down the length of her neck and down her collarbone. Her eyes shot in the direction of the duffle bag, where her phone was sounding off incoming calls and text messages. But even more astonishing... next to her pack, the mirror-!

The tiniest golden flutter was quivering on its surface!

"DIE, MAGE!"

Caras had regained consciousness and charged at them. He waved his arms high into the air and brought down a blinding flash of fury and righteous fire down on Uldred. The impact of the holy smite knocked Diora and the dagger out of Uldred's clutches, but it wasn't enough to kill the mage, it only momentarily stunned him. Meanwhile, Caras collapsed to the ground. The spell had drained him of what little strength he had.

"Run!" Caras urged Diora.

Diora wasted no time. She scrambled over to the mirror and touched it. Hope and relief overflowed within her when her hands broke through the glass, sending forth ripples on a the surface like the wind sweeping across a lake on a calm day. It was working! She didn't know how, but it was working! She pulled her duffle bag over her shoulders and took a deep breath, ready to take the plunge when -

' _Caras.'_

Damn it! Her stupid self-conscience! She couldn't abandon him. Even if he tried to kill her earlier, he'd just saved her life. She could never live with herself if she left him here. She let out a cry of frustration and ran over to him, helping him up to his feet.

"Caras, if you want to live, you have to trust me! We have to go into the mirror! We'll be safe there! I know it!" she told him urgently, dragging him to his feet and pulling him along. Damn, he was heavy with all that armor on him!

"WHAT?! Maker's breath, are you mad?! The cursed mirror!" Caras's feet wavered beneath him.

"YES!" Diora shouted into his face hysterically. "Come with me if you want to live!" Even at this moment of sheer desperation, it didn't escape Diora that this was a quote straight from that scene in  _The Terminator._ Now if only she had a giant machine gun and a cool motorcycle - damn it, she really needed to stop comparing this place to movies and books! This was real life!

Caras cast one look back at Uldred, who had begun to stir, and then locked his gemstone green eyes with Diora's stormy ones. Wide and grey, flecked with bits of sky blue and lined with a dark, dark ring. Filled with fear, yes, but there was goodness and truth in them, and a strength that was rare, even amongst the strongest, bravest men. It was like he was seeing her for the first time as a human being and not some mirror demon. He nodded.

"We'll go together, now!" said Diora as they made it to the looking glass.

Everything happened in an instant, so quickly that Diora didn't even have time to scream.

Uldred's reflection suddenly flashed in front of them.

In that split second, Caras had lunged forward and placed himself as a shield in between Uldred and Diora. Diora turned to see the crimson tide gush from the side of Caras's neck where a dagger had lodged itself. Furious that he had missed his intended target, Uldred grunted ferociously through clenched teeth and viciously twisted the blade before ripping it out of his victim. The bloody mist that sprayed on Diora's horror stricken face seemed to burn into her skin.

Caras coughed, blood gurgling forth from his lips. With what little strength he had left in him, he tried to turn his head one last time and smile softly at Diora, before the falling momentum and the impact of his body knocked her backwards into the mirror. Diora disappeared into a shower of golden light. The magic doorway instantly sealed itself shut behind her as she passed through the portal, transforming into glass.

Caras closed his eyes and allowed his body to simply… fall back.

The looking glass shattered into pieces around his lifeless body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: After a scouting trip in the Wilds, Duncan surprises Alistair at Ostagar when he brings a mysterious girl back to camp.


	5. The Unexpected Reunion in Ostagar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diora befriends Duncan and inexplicably finds herself reunited with Alistair at Ostagar.

Diora was unsure just how much time she spent fleeing. She sped blindly down the only passageway before her, a hazy colorless tunnel with a stone pathway that lit up beneath her feet with each step she took. The passage reverberated with the sounds of her racing footsteps. She had no idea where this path was leading, and there seemed to be no doorways in sight. She baptized the grey mist with a trail of sparkling tears, and the air around her seemed to come alive in a beautiful myriad of iridescent rainbow hues at her touch. The walls cradled her in an ethereal song as she dashed along them.

The beauty of the magic around her was lost to her. Instead, she was trapped in flashes of nightmares: how powerless she had felt beneath the bloodthirsty gleam of Uldred's beady black eyes; the sickening sound of his dagger sinking into ligament and muscle, burying itself to the hilt in Caras's neck; the spray of blood, like warm rain against her skin. A sharp ache constricted her chest. Had she really been summoned into this world to be a human sacrifice? It was too much for her broken spirit to bear. She wanted to forget. She wanted to forget everything! She sped up her pace, as if doing so would help her escape the memories, as if -

Instantly and without warning, a brilliant circular light flashed underneath her feet. The stone path beneath her suddenly gave way into thin air, and the brightness beneath her swallowed her up like a sinkhole.

* * *

.o0O0o.

* * *

Duncan smashed his pommel against a hurlock's face, inciting an angry howl from the creature. The Warden Commander slide his dagger across the hurlock's throat and kicked at the creature's chest. A darkspawn arrow danced off his shoulder pad, and Duncan dove for cover behind a massive marble pillar that had long toppled on its side. The cave the Wardens had stumbled on while scouting the darkspawn in the Korcari Wilds was full of such things, these grand white ruins of old. Once a symbol of the glory and power of the Tevinter Empire, they were now broken down bits of marble half-buried by rocks and the passage of time.

The Warden Commander and two senior Wardens were in the middle of a vicious skirmish with a group of darkspawn scouts when the walls of the cavern suddenly shook and earth beneath their feet tremored ominously. Beneath a vaulted canopy of stalactites, loose dirt and stone crumbled and pelted down on those below. Dancing rays of golden light suddenly blazed forth in the darkness, brilliant like the birth of a star. A shockwave blasted through the cavern, sending darkspawn and wardens alike flying through the air.

After a few minutes that felt more like hours to those stunned by the blast, the ground stilled. The light waned and the dust settled. The cavern was once again cast in black shadows and the bluish white halo cast by the phosphorescent deposits embedded in the ancient rocks. With a groan, Duncan lifted himself off the cavern floor.

What Duncan saw astonished him. The darkspawn they had been battling earlier were dead! He glanced over to the nearest Senior Grey Warden, a dwarf who, in his colorful language, voiced the exact same thought that Duncan had been pondering himself.

"By the tits of my ancestors, what was that light?!" Grigor, the dwarven Grey Warden warrior who had asked the question, picked himself up, trusty dragonbone maul gripped both hands. He shook his head, sending the bits of gravel that had landed in his greying hair flying in all directions. "Argh…! Fire and blight!" he spat when the attempt did little to dislodge the dirt from his bushy braided beard and instead caused the loose dust on his furry eyebrows to fall into his eyes.

"Whatever it was, it killed the remaining darkspawn," remarked Alain in his thick Orlesian accent. He kicked at an Emissary. Convinced the darkspawn was really dead, Alain shook the dust from his long, pale moonsilk blond hair. The Senior Grey Warden ranger then nocked a quiver on his bow and pointed it in the direction of the blast's epicenter. His narrowed light blue eyes tried to pierce through the thick haze of dust.

Duncan cautiously stepped out from his hiding place. "Grigor, Alain, be on your guard. I will see what it is." The Grey Warden Commander silently stepped over the bodies of dead darkspawn, following their trail to the epicenter of the blast. Duncan's movements were deft and quiet, not so unusual for someone who had spent most of his life as a well-trained rogue.

Duncan paused when he saw a glint of silver in front of him. As the dust cleared in the air, he realized it was from his own silver and white armor, reflecting back at him through a mirror. The Warden Commander's eyes narrowed and studied the looking glass. Earlier, in the heat of battle, no one had noticed the mirror because it had been obscured from view by a thick curtain of hanging vines. The blast had swept the vines aside. Ripples across the surface distorted the image of the Rivaini man with the swarthy skin, dark hair, and a curved hooked nose. The flutters on the glass pond slowly ceased, and Duncan stared hard into his reflection for several more seconds.

An Eluvian.

Mirrors such as this one were rare, but certainly not unheard of. The Grey Wardens knew of the existence of such mirrors. The Arlathan Elves used them as communication and teleportation devices, though that knowledge had been lost for hundreds of years since the fall of Arlathan. The Tevinters had tried in vain to master the power of the mirrors, succeeding only in using them for communication.

The mirror was circular and quite tall in height; its arch rose several feet above Duncan's head. It was inlaid in silver, and an exquisite filigree of floral patterns surrounded its circular border. Silvery wisps of blossoms and vines reached out towards him; the mirror had been beautifully crafted in such a way that it resembled a blossoming crown that had been turned on its side. The haze continued to dissipate, and the Warden Commander glanced down and noted that the looking glass stood elegantly before him on a silver base with four, silver, heart-shaped feet.

_And there was a girl!_

Duncan held his breath.

She was unconscious. Human. A slender, virginal, young thing. She was still bathed in a gentle golden glow that was slowly ebbing away. A crease marred her brow. She clutched a large satchel, the likes of which he had never seen. Clad in a blood stained shift, and her body covered in cuts and bruises.

Duncan called his companions over. He sheathed his sword, but kept his dagger in his hand just as a precaution. He knelt down before the young woman and gently nudged her shoulder, an action which garnered no response from the her. He could sense no sign of corruption in her. She was certainly no darkspawn. Even in her current state, she appeared too well-bred to be one of the Chasind or the wildlings that lived deep in the marshes of the Korcari Wilds. A mage, perhaps? If she was, she didn't look like any kind of mage he had ever seen. Had the light come from her? How had she come to be in the cave? Duncan knew the Eluvian had something to do with her appearance, but… how… was that...even possible?!

"Maker's breath, Duncan! It's a girl!" exclaimed Alain. He kept his arrow trained on the young woman on the ground.

Grigor, however, relaxed his stance and lowered the giant hammer before him. "Ancestors have mercy! Is she even alive How did she even get here?!"

Duncan's gaze remained locked on the unconscious girl while he answered his companion. "Yes, she's alive. I think she came through the mirror."

"Listen to yourself, Duncan! That's impossible!" Grigor walked up to the mirror and poked at the glass. He cursed when his finger sent ripples flowing across the mirror. "Bloody stones!"

"Be careful, Duncan. We don't know what she is. She must be very powerful, if she killed half a dozen darkspawn with that blast. She could be a dangerous mage, or some kind of witch," Alain warned Duncan as the Warden Commander placed a gloved hand on the girl's forehead.

"She's burning with fever." Even through his leather gloves, Duncan felt the heat radiating from her body. He debated several options internally to himself before making his decision. Her strange appearance, and the light that had somehow killed those darkspawn…. Duncan needed answers. "We must take her back to camp. We can't leave her here. The darkspawn might return."

Alain shook his head disapprovingly and raked a hand through his shoulder-length white-blond hair. "Duncan, are you sure we shouldn't just kill her? We don't know what she is! She could be dangerous!"

"No, Alain. We will take her back to camp," Duncan said firmly.

"Very well, Duncan. I trust you know what you are doing. This will certainly stir some commotion at camp," Alain sighed in acquiescence.

"She sure is a pretty one, isn't she? Wonder what happened to her clothes…?" Grigor pondered with a prurient chuckle. Grigor had a zest for life, wine, and women. Just because he was a dwarf didn't mean he didn't appreciate a fine human female form when he saw one.

Duncan rolled his eyes let out a grating sigh. He unwrapped the satchel's strap from around the girl's shoulders and tossed it up to Alain. The Orlesian begrudgingly caught the pack and groaned about how heavy and bulky it felt. Duncan easily lifted the girl's tiny frame into his arms and started heading towards the passage leading to the cave's entrance.

"What about this mirror, Duncan?" Grigor asked.

Duncan paused in his tracks and turned around to study the mirror one last time. How calm the glass surface now seemed. It glowed and softly reflected the bluish-white light of the cavern. Something about that mirror… struck him just as much as the mysterious girl in his arms. Just like the young woman, it held secrets, he was sure. But what kind of secrets? Duncan shook his head. "Leave it be. Once the darkspawn are dealt with, we will return to examine it further."

The dwarf followed his companions out of the cavern, cursing at the black crow that had suddenly swooped down from out of nowhere right above his shoulders. He picked up a stone and attempted to hit the blighted thing as it flew down the cavern passageway past the group and into the forest.

* * *

.o0O0o.

* * *

"Hey, kid, did you hear about that girl yet?"

Alistair, who had been focused on keeping his heaping dinner plate of beans, salt pork, and bread precariously balanced on his lap, eyed Grigor suspiciously. Of course he had not heard. He and Duncan's newest recruits had just returned from their assignment in the Wilds. And of course Grigor knew that Alistair didn't know. What was Grigor up to?

"Okay, I'll bite. What girl?" Alistair asked, hoping he wouldn't regret taking the bait.

Grigor chuckled gleefully. He was going to have some fun teasing the rookie Grey Warden about this one. "The we found wandering naked in the Wilds today, of course!"

Alistair sputtered and sprayed the water he had been drinking all over Grigor. While Alistair coughed and recovered rather ungracefully from his bout of surprise, Grigor howled in disgust and flicked the water droplets off his splintmail.

"You're joking, right? This is one of your tricks, isn't it, Grigor? Ever since you found out about- about- that I-  _you know_ \- you- you've been trying-!" Alistair's pitch rose with each word he sputtered out. His ears started tingling with embarrassment, and his cheeks turned bright red.

Grigor could not resist laughing heartily as the lad stumbled over his words. Somehow, Grigor and the others had found that Alistair had never been with a woman; and ever since, Grigor had tried to "fix" that situation for Alistair. The dwarf had even gone as far as to proposition a "businesswoman" on Alistair's behalf here at camp. She had been less than pleased when Alistair had bluntly - yet politely- booted her and her services from his tent.

"Grigor, you know full well she was not naked," Alain said dryly. He sat across the fire from Alistair, meticulously whittling at his nails with a dagger. The Orlesian Senior Warden was careful not to reveal too much information, as Duncan had explicitly instructed him and Grigor not to mention anything about the mirror until the girl awoke and could be questioned.

As Alain had predicted earlier in the cave, the strange woman's appearance here at camp had indeed created some excitement, especially among the men. To further exacerbate the situation, Duncan decided to take the girl to his own tent instead of the camp's infirmary - though that had more to do with allowing the girl to recover in relative safety and away from curious eyes rather than any personal agenda on the Warden Commander's part. Within several hours, however, everyone had heard about the mysterious young woman the Grey Wardens rescued from the cave in the Wilds, including King Cailan himself.

"Bah, griffon's buttocks! I'm just teasing the young'un a little!" Grigor countered, animatedly waving Alain's comment away - and sploshing half the ale from the cup in his hands as he did so. "But she was as good as naked! Dressed as she was, didn't leave much to the imagination. And an eyeful, too, by the stones! Nubile little thing and all slender shapely limbs. You definitely wouldn't have turned  _her_  away the other night." He took a swig of ale from his cup and winked at Alistair, much to the latter's abashment.

Alistair tried to ignore the dwarf's last comment and concentrated on eating his dinner. He took a bite out of a hunk of bread. It was a hearty bread, sweet and nutty, with berries and whole grains baked in. The young Grey Warden chewed silently and pondered over this new bit of information from Grigor and Alain. Alistair wondered why Duncan hadn't mentioned this girl when they met earlier.

As if reading Alistair's thoughts, Alain spoke, "You have only just returned. I am sure Duncan was planning on telling you himself, but he has been busy making preparations for the upcoming Joining Ceremony for the new recruits. He wants to perform the ceremony tonight."

That was when Daveth sauntered over and joined them. "Alistair, did you hear? While we were getting darkspawn blood and avoiding getting turned into toads by those witches for them treaties, Duncan found some naked girl in the Wilds. I managed to sneak a peek at her in Duncan's tent before the healer there chased me off."

* * *

.o0O0o.

* * *

_Duncan stood high on a cliff, watching the gathering storm. It lashed out with lightning that split the skies and rumbled with thunder that shook the earth. Flames ravaged the war-torn valley. Above the trees, hot smoke ascended into the air, burning his lungs. Above the howling wind, an ethereal melody of beautiful whispers rose. It hummed in the blackness that slithered across the land before him and engulfed the daylight in darkness. It was a call that could not be ignored, compelling his blood and caressing his mind. Once a thing of perfection, it was now corrupt, tainted by the same ichor that coursed through his veins._

_The call of an Old God._

_The nightmare was a familiar one, recurring more constantly of late._

_Only... this time, the scent of roses floated in the air. Velvety and intoxicating. Deep red and dusky pink rose petals cascaded down upon him from the rust-colored skies. Mingled with the choking smoke and flying embers._

_Flower petals and soot._

_Mingled sweetness and bitterness._

_Ashes of roses._

_This struck Duncan as odd. How often had he dreamt this black dream? Countless times, and never like this. Where were the rose petals coming from? He glanced all around and froze._

_The girl they had found in the cave._

_She seemed just as shocked as he was when their eyes met. She stood before him, bathed in starlight, golden like the sun yet airy like the moon. A divine vision amidst a shower of blooming rose petals._

_Surely, this was_ his  _dream, wasn't it? How did she come to be in it?_

_A pained expression shadowed her face. The encroaching darkness seemed to weaken her. Her light faded from her as she fell to her knees. She lifted her trembling hands before her and let out a staggered cry as she looked down into her palms._

_Duncan closed the gap between them - and felt like he had been suddenly turned to stone when he glanced at her open palms._

_Fat, crimson black droplets dotted her finely shaped hands._

_Instead of raining rose petals, the sky was weeping tainted blood._

Duncan awoke with a start.

* * *

.o0O0o.

* * *

_Bloody rain…!_

Diora gasped and bolted up, heart racing at what felt like a hundred beats per minute. Perspiration dotted her forehead. She gulped, wincing at how dry her throat felt, and tried to control her ragged pants with deep, measured breaths. Someone had changed her into a flouncy nightshirt of sorts. Then she looked down at her hands and felt a wave of relief wash through her.

A dream. The bloody rain on her hands had only been a dream. But it had seemed so real...

"Ah, so you finally awaken," a kindly voice caught her attention.

Diora looked up and saw a handsome, middle aged woman looking at her. The woman was wearing a long, green robe and had a golden cord tied around her waist. She had greying, pale blond hair tied back into a short ponytail. The fine lines around her kind blue-green eyes crinkled and her lips turned up into a compassionate smile. She sat down on the chair next to the cot and placed a hand on Diora's forehead.

"Good. Your fever has gone," the woman said, seeming pleased. "You had a fever and some minor injuries when Duncan brought you back to camp earlier today. Do you remember, child?"

Diora mutely shook her head. The last thing she remembered before waking up was being swallowed up by the light in the passageway.

She looked around at her surroundings. She was sitting up on a rather lumpy cot in a modest sized tent, facing the tent flap. The tent was sparsely decorated, with only a simple wooden trunk sat at the end of the cot, a makeshift table with a single burning lamp, and an equally rustic looking chair on which the unnamed woman was now sitting down. Her duffle bag lay a ground of grassy carpet next to the chair. Judging by shadows outside and the lamp burning in the tent, Diora guessed it was either late at night or very early in the morning.

"Where am I? Who-who are you?" Diora whispered.

"This is the King's encampment in Ostagar. My name is Wynne. I am a healer and Senior Enchanter of the Circle," the woman answered.

Diora couldn't quell the bitter disappointment that washed over her. So she hadn't made it back home. Instead, she was….

She didn't get to finish the thought. The flaps to the tent parted, and an older man with a commanding bearing strode in.

"How is she, Wynne?" he asked.

"Awake now, as you can see, Duncan," Wynne replied.

Diora studied Duncan with wary eyes. He had dark hair that was greying around the temples. His silver chest plate bore a unique pattern of swirls and lines, and rows of copper plates and buckles ran down the length of his arms. Time spent in the elements weathered his dark complexion, and a sunbaked glow bronzed his naturally swarthy skin. His deep brown eyes bore a solemn countenance, and his ruddy lips were set in a thin line amidst a neatly trimmed beard. To her surprise, a gold earring flashed in one of his ears.

"I saw you… in my dream...! It  _was_ you, I'm sure!" Diora exclaimed, recognition lighting up her widening eyes. Then, what little color she had faded from her face. She shuddered. "You- you had -  _shadows_  all around you, singing," she whispered, sounding confused.

Duncan was as stunned as if he had been struck with a physical blow. So he had not just dreamed about the girl, she had actually been in his dream! "How did you...? Are you a demon?!" he demanded, drawing his dagger.

"NO! No! I'm not a demon! I swear! I'm just a normal high school student! Please don't hurt me!" Diora, on the verge of tears, huddled under the blankets.

"Duncan! You're scaring her!" Wynne interjected, her maternal instincts flaring up. She stood up and stepped between Duncan and the girl.

Duncan watched the girl cower behind the covers. Her pupils had dilated until they swallowed up her irises, turning her eyes into fearful pools of blackness surrounded by a delicate ring the color of a cloudy blue sky. For Duncan, the effect of staring into that starkly pale, innocent face was startling and devastating at the same time.

She certainly looked like a simple girl, a very frightened, simple girl. Still, Duncan knew appearances could be deceiving. Dagger still drawn, he asked her, "Who are you? What's your name?"

Diora nervously licked her lips. Fear left her mouth feeling like it was full of cotton balls. Still, this man's penetrating stare bore down on her, waiting for her to answer his question. Finally, she managed to weakly croak out, "Diora. Diora Starr." Then she motioned at his dagger. Sounding less frightened now, but still incredibly nervous, she pleaded,"Can you... Can you please put that down now?"

Duncan noted how tightly her hands clutched at the blanket, the delicate skin stretched tautly over her white knuckles. Perhaps this girl was not a demon, else she would have lashed out in defense already. Satisfied enough that the girl did not pose an immediate threat, Duncan sheathed his dagger.

"My name is Duncan. I am the Commander of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden," he introduced himself to her. "My men and I found you in a cave in the Wilds earlier today. Can you tell me how you came to be there?"

For reasons Diora could not explain, fresh tears spilled over and streamed down face. Maybe it was the overwhelming flood of relief that somehow, after everything she'd been through, she was still alive; it was also very conceivable that she was just going insane. She sniffed and wiped at her tears, trying to hold herself together. Still they came, followed by her blubbering sobs.

Duncan was at a complete loss. Fortunately for him, Wynne knew exactly what needed to be done. The healer's eyes filled with concern, and she moved onto the bed and pulled the girl into her arms.

"I- I don't mean to cry. It's just… I was scared! I was so scared! Please, I just want to go home. I hate it here! I don't belong here," Diora wept into Wynne's bosom.

Wynne gently rocked Diora back and forth on the bed. "Of course we'll help you find a way back home," she comforted the crying young woman.

"No, you don't understand! I- I don't know if I can ever go back. I'm not from this world."

Duncan and Wynne exchange startled looks.

"What do you mean you're  _not from this world_?" Duncan asked.

"I'm not from here. There's no magic where I come from. I'm just a normal high-school student." Diora wiped her runny nose with the back of her hand. "A mage used his magic mirror to bring here. He said he needed my blood for his dark ritual! I thought jumping into the mirror would take me back home, but it didn't work. Please take me back home. I just want to go back home…!"

"There, there, child. It will be all right," the healer said in hushed, soothing tones.

"It's not  _alright_. How can it be  _alright_ when I'm still trapped here?!" Diora demanded, growing hysterical.

Diora had never experienced death and violence until she came to this world. She cried for herself. She cried for the farmer's family and for the slain templars. She wondered if she could ever forget the look on Caras's face as the life slowly dimmed from his eyes, if the heat and coppery smell of his blood on her skin could ever be washed away from her memory. Her last thoughts before she drifted into slumber were of the crystal waters of Aster Lake, where Aeries was surely waiting for her….

Wynne gently laid the girl down on the bed. She stroked a strand of hair away from a tear-stained cheek. "Poor dear. That sleeping spell should help calm her down for the time being."

* * *

.o0O0o.

* * *

When Diora awoke, soft sunlight was gently filtering into the tent.

The memories came rushing back. ' _OMIGOD! I told Duncan and Wynne about -! How am I still alive?! They didn't kill me in my sleep!'_

Movement and hushed tones outside the tent interrupted her thoughts. Panicked and unsure about what to do, she lay back down and feigned sleep.

"Your discretion is much appreciated, Wynne. How is she?"

"The poor child is still asleep. And you do not need to fear. I have no intentions of revealing to anyone what she told us last night."

Diora heard the flap rustle as Duncan and Wynne entered the tent.

"What I could piece together from her story…. Wynne, do you really believe that this girl was spirited away from a world without magic into our own? It's ludicrous!"

' _It's not ludicrous, it's the truth, old man!'_ Diora complained silently.

"I understand why you feel that way, Duncan, and yet I believe her. What reason would she have to lie, Duncan? You told me yourself that she appeared through an Eluvian in the Wilds. Does that not support her own story? And the Eluvians are a mystery we do not comprehend, even with our vast knowledge of magic. What if one could open a gateway to another reality using an Eluvian?"

' _Thank you, Wynne!'_ Diora gushed to herself.

"It's not just that, Wynne. I know you feel particularly maternal towards her, but this girl… When she appeared, she left half a dozen darkspawn dead in her wake. Who could do that, release that much power? We know she's not a demon, or she would have fought back already. Could she be running from the Circle?"

' _Wait! What the hell?! Dark Swans?'_

"I do not recognize her as a mage from the Circle of Ferelden."

' _What the heck is this circle they keep mentioning? And I'm not a mage!'_

"Could she be an apostate, then? A mage flee-"

"I'm not a mage! I told you already, I'm just a normal high-school student! There's no magic where I come from! Swans are beautiful creatures and shouldn't be killed. And what's this 'circle' everyone keeps talking about?" Diora grumbled, suddenly sitting up in bed. She couldn't resist the small, guilty pleasure she received when she saw Duncan shift uncomfortably in place.

An awkward silence ensued, during which Diora and Duncan engaged each other in a silent staring contest. Finally, defeated and helpless, Diora curled up and hugged her knees. "I know it sounds crazy, but I'm telling the truth. You have to believe me. I don't know what else I can do or who I can turn to," she sighed sorrowfully.

After a few minutes of quiet contemplation, Duncan surprised Diora, and even himself, when he found himself suggesting, "The mirror. If what you say is true, then perhaps the mirror might offer us some answers. What if I were to take you back to the cavern we where we found you?"

* * *

.o0O0o.

* * *

The official story making its rounds through camp that afternoon was the young girl from the wilds had awoken that morning and, that with the exception of her name, she had no other recollection of her memories or how she had come to be in the Wilds. As such, the Grey Warden Commander himself had placed her under his own, personal protection. One of the advantages of being the Grey Warden Commander was that oftentimes, you could say something and everyone would have to take your word for it. As expected, no one openly questioned Duncan's judgement or actions regarding Diora. The announcement was not enough to refrain curious folk from silent speculation, but Duncan suspected that any rumors about Diora would pale in comparison to the truth - that she was really a girl from a strange world beyond the Eluvian. This way, at least Diora's secret was safe.

What Duncan learned of Diora this morning astounded him. She claimed to be a scholar from a world of science. Magic did not exist where she came from. Somehow, a blood mage had used an Eluvian to bring her into Thedas, intent on using her blood for a dark ritual.

During their conversation, she appeared mentally sound and intelligent, but it was clear she had no notion of Thedas, its geography, or its calendar. It had been quite the surreal experience, sitting down next to her and listening to himself answer questions like, 'What's this circle everyone keeps mentioning?', 'So if this is the Dragon Age, does it mean that dragons exist here?', and 'Oh! Dark  _spawn_ , not dark swan. Wait… what the heck is darkspawn?"

Her questions had left him reeling in disbelief. What… in the Maker?!

_Everyone_  in Thedas, even small children, knew what the darkspawn were. Even if one had never seen a darkspawn, the word alone evoked fear. The girl had really thought he was talking about swans!

Such things did not sit well with the Grey Warden Commander. Duncan couldn't believe that he was actually considering the validity and truth of Diora's story. Examining the mirror seemed like the next logical step. At the very least, the Eluvian might provide clues to the answers he was looking for.

Of course, the darkspawn remained the first priority. Which was why Duncan had decided that for the time being, the girl would be better off at the follower camp. Once the immediate darkspawn threat was dealt with, he and the Senior Wardens would return to investigate the Eluvian. He would bring Diora and Wynne along. Duncan knew that Grigor, Alain, and Wynne could be trusted to keep Diora's secret.

"Alistair, I have a task for you."

"Oh! Duncan! Of course!" Alistair felt like he had just jumped out of his skin. How did Duncan always manage to move about so stealthily until he was completely behind someone before purposefully making his presence known? Alistair wondered if spooking people like that secretly amused Duncan. Alistair squared his shoulders and cleared his throat in an attempt to appear and sound more presentable. "What did you need, Duncan?"

"I have… a certain matter I would like to discuss with you," Duncan started saying, carefully choosing his words. "King Cailan has requested the presence of the Grey Wardens at the war council this morning, and -"

"And you want me to join you?" Alistair interrupted, excitement bubbling over. Not that Alistair really cared for war councils, he imagined it would be long and dull and he wouldn't even have much to say. Still, to be invited….

"Um… No, Alistair, not this time." Duncan shook his head slightly.

"Oh," mumbled Alistair, pride deflated. He should have known better, the council was usually reserved for important key players, not relatively new Warden Ensigns.

Duncan pat Alistair's back reassuringly. "Alistair, you already know most of the details, and I will inform you of the rest. You are a Grey Warden, and you still have an important role to play, even if you are not privy to the war council. Now, while Aedan and I -"

' _I take back what I thought earlier about the council and new ensigns. Aedan just became a Warden!'_ Alistair could not help thinking glumly to himself while Duncan continued to speak. He kicked at the dusty ground with his metal boots.

"-are at the war council today, I would like for you to escort someone up to the follower camp a few miles north of here," Duncan finished the sentence.

The follower camp was where the spouses and children of soldiers resided if they had decided to follow the army. It was also where most informal army service providers serviced soldiers' needs whilst encamped, in particular selling goods or services that the military did not supply. Such needs and services included cooking, laundering, liquor, nursing, sutlery, and sexual services. Most service providers often traveled between the follower camp and the main army camp.

' _An escort?'_  Alistair frowned upon that thought. "With all due respect, Duncan…," he started to say.

Duncan raised a hand to silence Alistair. "This is no heedless task, Alistair. I would do it myself were my presence not needed at the war council. Since I can not, I would trust no one else but you to carry it out."

This made Alistair slightly feel better. Duncan's trust and approval meant a great deal to Alistair. In the six months since Duncan recruited him, Alistair had found a family in those he called brothers. Alistair owed Duncan a lot, and looked up to him as a father figure of sorts.

Sensing Alistair's silence as acquiescence, Duncan motioned for Alistair to follow him. They fell into step together, heading towards Duncan's tent, while the elder Warden continued, "Now, as you may have heard, Alain, Grigor, and I found a girl the other day while scouting for darkspawn in the Wilds. Scouts have reported substantial darkspawn troop movement in the south. All evidence points to an imminent battle, within the next day or so. I would have this young woman out of harm's way."

"This is about that young lady you found...the one who's lost her memory? I don't quite understand, Duncan. Do you mean to conscript her?" Alistair asked. What was so significant about this woman? The young man refused to believe the rampant rumors that scandalized those at Ostagar, that Duncan meant to take the girl as a lover. The possibility of conscripting this mysterious girl into the Grey Wardens was the only other logical reason that Alistair could think of at the moment, but then again, what good was a girl who had lost her memory?

The Warden Commander hesitated and lowered his voice when answering his protege. "Not… exactly. She's... different. The circumstances of our finding her were  _peculiar,_  and she has displayed some…  _curious_  abilities. She could be of use to the Wardens, but how I can not be sure at this time."

"What kind of abilities? Is she a mage, hiding from the Chantry?"

"I cannot reveal more to you at this time. And I know you were once a templar, Alistair, but Chantry business is not ours," Duncan said firmly. "And Alistair..."

"Yes, Duncan?" Alistair shifted a sideways glance at Duncan.

Duncan didn't know how else to say what he wanted to say without sounding callous. "She is under my personal protection. As such, I fully expect that you will respect my wishes to make her feel welcome, but at the same time, not burden her with any questions about her person," he instructed firmly.

"Ah. So I'm to be a silent escort, then. I got it," Alistair said, unable to help from scowling.

Duncan winced and placed a hand on the young man's shoulder, squeezing it softly. "It's hard to explain, Alistair… Trust me when I say that for now, the less involved you are with her, the better. But still... be kind to her. For the time being, I need to have her out of harm's way. Now, I have already sent a message ahead to Madam Lucille in the follower camp. You are to bring the girl to her for safekeeping until-"

"Wait!" exclaimed Alistair incredulously. "I get the no questions part, but Madam Lucille! You mean, the woman who- who runs and oversees- all of the-?" Alistair could not manage to finish the sentence and started to blush profusely. Madam Lucille oversaw the ring of 'businesswomen' here at camp. "You're thinking about sending her there?"

Duncan could not help suppressing a wry smile. "Yes. And she will be safe there. Madam Lucille is fiercely protective when it comes to the treatment of her...charges. Do not fear. I have her explicit promise that no harm or advances of any kind will be made towards the girl." Then the Rivaini couldn't help pausing and glancing back at Alistair with twinkling, jestful eyes. "It was Grigor's idea, actually."

"Maker's breath!" sighed Alistair, following Duncan into the tent.

* * *

.o0O0o.

* * *

Alistair could not believe his eyes.

Words failed the young Grey Warden, and he wondered if he had somehow stepped into some kind of a dream the moment he entered Duncan's tent. He remained rooted to the spot while Duncan walked over next to her bedside. He stared, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, at Duncan's ward.

It was  _her_.

Diora.

Here.

The memory of her face and that day had etched itself into Alistair's mind, haunting him. Alistair's legs threatened to turn to mush beneath him. His fingers started to tingle and go numb; he flexed them several times. His heart pounded in his chest. The blood was rushing so loudly in his ears, Alistair couldn't make out the words Duncan was speaking to her. Alistair swallowed the lump in his throat. His words were barely more than a faint whisper.

"Diora! It's you!"

Diora gasped sharply. ' _That voice!'_

From underneath a fringe of long dark lashes, Diora's blue-flecked grey eyes curiously peeked up at the young man who had entered the tent behind Duncan. Her lips turned up into a smile - a smile, Alistair noted, with a trick in it - a slow, budding smile with a sudden luminosity and rapture of fulfillment. For the first time since she stepped into this awful place, Diora actually felt… _happy._

Duncan's bewildered eyes followed Diora's gaze back to Alistair. He felt his breath catch in his throat as parts of Diora's story reverberated in his mind:

" _When I first got here, everyone thought I was a demon. I met a boy in the marketplace, who tried to help me hide from the templars. He told me his name was…."_

_"Alistair!"_ Diora said breathlessly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Part 1 of Diora's adventures in Ostagar, including a awkward blushing moment with Alistair, meeting the dashing Aedan Cousland, and coming to an Elven boy's rescue.


End file.
